A Pirate's Life and Death
by Ecri
Summary: Part 21! COMPLETE! The Final Battle for Will Turner. Who will live? Who will die?
1. Default Chapter

****

Author's Note: A lot of POTC fic writers seem to have been smitten by the idea of what became of Bootstrap Bill. This fic started out that way but developed into something else. I don't really know how it will turn out, but I'm enjoying writing it!

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

Please read and review. (I try to respond to all reviews, but responses will appear at the bottom of the following chapter.)

A Pirates Life and Death by Ecri

__

The sea was cold and still with moonlight pouring down over the water and glistening like polished steel. The depths were not murky as one might expect, but even in the warm climes, if you go deep enough, water becomes icy and dangerous.

Down, past the seabirds, past the schools of fish and the dolphins, past the whales and giant squid, past the monsters seen by few men and so bearing no name at all save the generic title of 'seamonster' a man struggled to be free.

The moonlight did not filter down so far, so the pirate was spared seeing himself as a rotting skeleton, but this did little to lighten the weight of his curse. He heaved against the cannon strapped to his boots. If he had but landed in a better position, he might have untied the straps, chains, and ropes and walked to freedom, but alas, the canon had landed atop his legs crushing the bone and pinning him to the ocean floor. He had struggled for all the long years he had been down here, but to no avail. He knew he should give up, and, in truth, the rest periods he granted himself had grown in length until he sometimes sat still for days or weeks on end, but he always tried again. He always came back to the idea that he could free himself and find his son. 

He did not know how long he had been here precisely, for he possessed no way to measure the passage of time, but the growth of barnacles along the cannon told him it had been years. 

Then, miraculously, he felt a shift, a change in his being. He inhaled and the water filled his lungs. He sputtered and spat, but could not expel it, and there was no way for him to take in the air he needed. That's it then_, he thought_. They've reversed the curse. 

__

He struggled for breath, part of him unable not to wish for life. It proved impossible as he had known it would, and Bootstrap Bill Turner finally found release gazing blankly with lifeless eyes at the cannon that had held him, his hand floating upwards reaching

  
Will Turner sat up in bed inhaling sharply, sweat soaking him. The nightmare had been with him since it had all ended, since Captain Jack Sparrow had sailed away with the Black Pearl and Elizabeth Swann had agreed to allow him to court her.

Time had passed quickly, but the dream had not faded with its passage. Will, lying still upon his bed, as if fearful any movement would shatter reality and plunge him deep into the dream again, tried to ease the pounding of his heart.

His father's demise was something with which he had struggled since his mind had pieced it together. His initial anger at Barbossa and the mutinous pirates of the Black Pearl had melted away into shock and horror when his own part in it all had become clear to him. He had killed Bootstrap Bill. He had done it himself when he had sliced his hand. 

Forgetting his earlier need to be still, he pulled his hand free from the blankets and looked at the pale scar in his palm barely visible in the moonlight that flooded the open window. That mark had destroyed his father. He knew there was at least some possibility that Bootstrap Bill Turner may have managed to free himself from the weight of the canon, and perhaps the uncertainty of it all was difficult to bear, but Will could not cling to such a small hope. He knew what was most likely, and he knew he would be obsessed with these thoughtsthese nightmare images for all his life.

He tossed aside his bedcovers. He knew from experience, he would sleep no more tonight. At first, the dream had come only once in awhile. Then, it had increased in intensity and frequency, until, now, for the last two weeks he had dreamed it every night. Sometimes it came to him several times a night whenever he had been able to drift to sleep again or if exhaustion overtook him.

Dressing quickly, he decided to take a walk, hoping the night air would erase the last vestiges of the dream memory. As he walked he considered the twists and turns his life had taken. He had lived in Port Royal for ten years, since the ship on which he had booked passage, attacked by pirates, had been sunk in the Caribbean. His rescue by a ship of the fleet, by Miss Elizabeth Swann, had sealed his future. He had lost himself to her.

Upon arrival at Port Royal, he took an apprenticeship with the Blacksmith. The work was hard, but satisfying, and learning to use the tools had given him the chance to learn to forge weapons. He devoted his life to learning all he could about forging the finest swords in all the Caribbean. 

As he'd grown, he'd asked incessant questions of his master, Mr. Brown, the blacksmith, but when the man seemed to prefer a good bottle–or a bad one–to conversation, it became prudent for him to seek information elsewhere. He'd fallen to interviewing everyone who would accept a question from a child–Navy men, locals, even the occasional dignitary. In secret, when his master slept off the strong drink he preferred, Will had put his knowledge to use.

Forging his first sword had been educational to say the least. He'd taken to memorizing each step he took and, when he failed, he melted down the product and began again. Sometimes, he did so when he had not failed, simply because he thought he could do better, and lacked the money to buy more such materials.

Mr. Brown had become less and less the master of this domain and had let the work of maintaining the smithy to his young apprentice. By the time Will was 16 he was doing all of the work. Few people knew of it, of course, and most assumed Mr. Brown still forged the weapons and whatever other jobs the smithy was required to do.

  
This didn't actually bother Will, for he cherished the compliments to his work others asked him to pass along to his master, yet it grew harder and harder to deny that some part of him wanted to be known for the work he did. Perhaps if the Governor thought him an artisan, he might consider him worthy of courting Elizabeth.

  
He'd sold his first sword to a man passing through Port Royal. The man had inquired where he'd gotten it, so Will had told him that he worked for the Smith. In itself not a lie, just not an answer to that question.

He made sword after sword and then had begun studying swordplay. Practicing for hours a day, he approached it much as he had his previous endeavor. Asking, watching, and practicing, he became an expert, and could often bear a sword in each hand.

He knew his desire to wield the weapon came from a desire to remain in control. When his ship had been attacked all those years ago, that boy had been alone, afraid, and defenseless. He had despised the pirates who had come aboard in the fog and had killed everyone on board looking for gold. They'd shouted about gold as they'd wandered the shipas Will had watched the people he'd sailed with all the way from England being slaughtered. He'd vowed never to be helpless against a pirate again.

In the irony to end all ironies, his own father had turned out to have been a pirate, and his search for the man who bore his name ended when he learned Bootstrap Bill Turner had been strapped to a canon and left for dead at the bottom of the sea.

He hadn't had time to consider his father's demise until much later. The night Jack Sparrow had left, Will had fallen asleep, only to awaken a few hours later with the dream, vivid and fresh in his mind. That's when he realized he had killed his own father. 

  
Captain Barbossa, Captain of the Pirate vessel, the Black Pearl, had thrown him into the ocean to be sure, but as the other crewmembers of the Black Pearl, Bootstrap Bill had been cursed. He had lived down there at the bottom of the sea forWill didn't know how long. The horrifying fact was that Bill had lived until his son, Will Turner ended the curse by slitting his palm and bleeding over a gold coin and dropping it back where it belonged. That action had ended his father's struggles. He had murdered his father without a thought. 

The thoughts and images of his dream increased rather than diminishing as he walked, so Will began to walk more quickly, finally breaking into a run. He ran as though he could outrun his own mind. He ran all along the waterfront until he felt his limbs would drop off. Then he kept running until his chest heaved with the effort. He dropped then suddenly on a rocky outcrop and cried himself to sleep beneath the moonlight. It was several minutes before the dream started again.

**

Elizabeth strolled down the streets of Port Royal with a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She liked dropping in on Will while he was working. He was so skillful and able. She had often come and watched for hours on end, and had yet to see Will's master, Mr. Brown in anything other than a drunken sleep. 

She walked now into the workshop, and saw him standing over a sword he'd just removed from a cooling bucket of water. The blade had ceased to sizzle, but he held it carefully, respectful of the blade he had forged. Apparently satisfied with his inspection, he was about to put it down, when Elizabeth drew closer and called to him.

"Hello Will!" she called.

  
Startled he nearly dropped the sword. He fumbled for it, and accidentally caught the blade, slicing open his hand. Hissing in pain and surprise, he let the blade fall, and held his hand against his chest in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

Elizabeth ran to his side. "Oh, Will! Are you all right?"

He nodded. "It's just a scratch."

She pried his hand open and saw the blood pooling there. "It's more than a scratch. Come with me. I'll take you to my father's doctor."

Will stepped backwards pulling his hand away. "I don't think your father would approve of that. Besides, I can take care of it myself."

Elizabeth looked into his eyes, surprised to see the dark shadows and the haunted expression. "Will, you look terrible! Have you not been sleeping?"

He wanted to tell her he was fine, but he was a bad liar. He had never understood how the crew of the Black Pearl had believed him when he'd said Jack had fallen behind, except that they may have taken his hesitation for sorrow. 

He shook his head. "I have not slept well, though I have slept."

Gently, Elizabeth took his hand, wrapping it in a handkerchief she drew from her purse. Will allowed this, but refused each effort she made to get him to see a doctor. Something troubled him. That much was obvious, but why would he not talk to her about it? She sat with him for a time trying to ease her own mind as to his well being, but unable to do so.

When she left him to his work, she could not help but worry. She had noticed how distracted he was growing in recent weeks. Perhaps his adventures with Captain Jack Sparrow had stirred the pirate blood within him. Perhaps she would lose him to the sea. After all, he had the blood of a pirate. It wouldn't be surprising if he chose to follow that blood, those longings wherever they led. The thought stayed with her even as she tried to sleep that night.

**

That evening Will looked again at his hand. The painful throbbing took his mind off sleep. 

Of course, it only worked for a short time before the demands of his already exhausted body began to take their toll.

Will struggled to stay awake, unwilling to see the dream images again. Though they haunted his memory when he was awake, it seemed preferable to see the memory of a dark vision that to live through it. Each time he slept, the images became more and more vivid to the point where he could almost feel the icy water and taste the salt of the ocean. 

He forced his eyes open once again and stared into his cup of strong tea. The Pirates on the Pearl, and even Jack Sparrow himself, had told Will that he looked just like his father. Will wasn't sure how he felt about that. Bearing the name of a pirate and the blood of a pirate, was one thing, but he wasn't entirely happy with bearing the likeness of a pirate as well. As he pondered this, he didn't even realize it when his eyes drifted slowly shut.

_Will Turner_ saw _Bootstrap Bill struggle with the canon that lay across_

his legs, his face obscured by the large black hat he wore. As the water

entered his lungs, panic set him to struggle for breath. Gasping, clawing

at the sandy bottom of the ocean, he thrashed violently, instinct denying

the inevitability of failure. His flailing ceased suddenly, and his head

tipped back. As the hat fell slowly from Bootstrap's head, Will Turner

looked into hisown face and screamed.

Will leapt from his bed and stumbled to the washbasin on the dresser. Retching violently, he emptied his stomach until all that he could produce was dry heaves. 

He took some time to clean up, taking refuge in the methodical movements and not allowing his mind to wander. At least the rush of adrenaline had wakened him fully. When he'd finished, he looked around his room for something to distract him. The room was small and he'd always kept it tidy though he had few possessions and didn't think he'd ever have enough to cause any clutter. The room was the attic of Mr. Brown's own home, and stood next to the workshop. He was tempted to return to the shop and begin working on another sword, but he knew the clatter might wake a neighbor. He never worried about waking Mr. Brown, as he had never been able to do it even when he tried.

What to do then, since he was loath to return to bed?

Another stroll, he decided, and dressed himself. His wanderings brought him to the docks, and he strolled casually along as he found himself wondering where Jack Sparrow was.

He looked out to sea, his eyes lingering on the horizon when he saw three huge and fierce looking ships approaching Port Royal with canon aimed and ready. Each flew the Jolly Roger.

Breaking into a run, he made his way to the fort hoping to sound the alarm. He'd made it halfway there when he heard the first canon shots. 

**

Elizabeth woke to the sound of canon fire, and dashed to the window. "Not again." She whispered as she saw pirates running through the street, and, in the distance, three pirate ships. 

She crept carefully to her bed and looked beneath it, bringing out a narrow box. Opening it, she drew the sword and scabbard Will had given her not long after Captain Jack Sparrow had sailed off in the Pearl.

"I made it especially for you, Elizabeth. It's perfectly balanced for you–not too heavy that it would make you weary just to hold it, but strong enough to go against any well-wielded blade." His eyes had shone with love for her.

Over the next few weeks, he'd given her lessons until her father had discovered it, and had forbidden her from pursuing such manly skills. Will had then offered to teach her in the blacksmith's shop whenever Mr. Brown fell into an alcohol induced stupor, which was often.

She knew she was no expert, but she was well able to wield the blade to defend herself. Strapping on the scabbard over her nightgown, she then bent and tore a few inches off the bottom of the garment, remembering Will's insistence that being able to move freely was of great benefit in a fight for one's life.

Heading for the door to her bedroom, she slipped through the corridors looking for any of her servants or her father who might still be inside.

**

Will raced towards the center of town, a sword in one hand and a knife in the other. He stopped several times to help where he could, dispatching several pirates along the way, and instructing anyone not able to take up arms to hide somewhere away from town.

He fought his way through the throng of people, some madly running for shelter, some deep in the thick of the fighting. He moved towards the governor's house, his only thought too reach Elizabeth's side and keep her safe.

He was still several yards from the house when he saw her out front, sword in hand, holding her own against a pirate.

He rushed to her and ran the pirate through without a second thought. He called to her loudly to be heard over the din of canon fire, rifle shots, and screaming. "Run, Elizabeth!"

  
"No! I will fight with you!"

  
He shook his head, already engaging another pirate. "You must run! Make for the treeline and keep going! You must hide!"

"I do not"  
  
"Please!" 

  
Elizabeth stopped hearing the desperation in Will's voice, and seeing it in his face. He deftly knocked the pirate he was fighting unconscious and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Please, Elizabeth. I must know that you are safe!"

  
Not knowing what else to do, she nodded, kissed him quickly, and, still clutching her sword, ran towards the trees, taking any women and children that she came across with her. 

**

The siege of Port Royal had not taken long. An hour at most, and the fiercest resistance was crushed.

  
Commodore Killian stood in the streets watching as his men dragged the good citizens of Port Royal to stand before him. Each man, woman, and child was bound and divided into groups; those who would be offered life as a slave aboard one of Killian's three ships–and a slave to Pirates was a fair existence as far as the Commodore was concerned–those who would be taken as slaves and sold elsewhere, those who would be killed outright, and those who would be left behind to tell the gruesome tale.

  
His ships, the Revenge, the Serpent, and his flagship, the Marauder would be well loaded with booty from this trip!

Killian saw a scuffle as several of his men seemed still in the midst of confrontation. He drew closer and saw three of his fiercest pirates crossing blades withit could not be_one_ man! He drew nearer, and pulled his pistol. Coming up behind the man who fought though he was defeated, Killian placed the pistol to the man's ear and cocked it. The sound froze the fool in his tracks, sword suspended in mid-strike.

Reaching around the man, Killian laid a grip of iron on his wrist, squeezing until he dropped his weapon. Then, he spun the fool around to get a look at him. The age of the man surprised him considering the skill he had with the blade. Killian leaned closer to him.

"You best surrender now, since you have no hope to escape." Killian turned to his men. "Three of you! To one?" The Commodore shook his head. "Disgraceful." He turned back to the youth. "What's your name, boy?"

The boy stared at the man defiantly. 

The Commodore sighed. "We don't much care for theatrics or bravado, boy. Tell me your name and tell me now, or I may just send a bullet through your brain!"

"Will Turner." Will was reluctant to tell his name, afraid these pirates might have known his father, but he had to do all in his power not to be killed so he could find Elizabeth.

The Commodore's eyes narrowed, but he made no further comment.

Turning to his men, he spoke as though Will weren't there. "Put him with the first group."

The men nodded, and Will wrists were bound in front of him before he was led away.

**

Will watched as the Pirates sorted through the people, killing several, allowing some to live, yet all seemingly by whim or some strange calculation the blacksmith had yet to decipher. He himself stood bound and gagged at the docks with several other strong young men who would be taken aboard the pirates ships and used as slave labor, eventually given the choice to stay a slave or join the ranks of the crew.

He worried for Elizabeth, hoping she had managed to get far away. Those hopes were shattered as he heard a familiar voice screaming to be let go. Will turned and saw Elizabeth and several other women being dragged towards the docks.

No! His mind called out even as his voice failed him. He took several steps forward then thinking only of reaching her side, when one of the pirates guarding the slaves noticed his movement and hit him sending him crashing to the ground. He looked up then, not at the pirate who had hit him but at Elizabeth.

  
She saw him and stopped struggling causing the pirates to overbalance at the sudden cessation of resistance. Righting themselves before they hit the ground, the men tossed the women to the ground in front of Killian.

Killian considered the group. "Good takings, this trip. They'll fetch a good price. We'll sell 'em at Tongo."

Will recovering himself, got to his feet and stepped forward, knowing there was nothing he could do, but unable to accept such a sentence on Elizabeth's head.

  
She shook her head at him, silently pleading with him not to make things worse for himself, and maybe get himself killed, by attempting an escape that could only fail.

  
His eyes locked on hers, and he stopped in his tracks, unable to swallow the lump in his throat or the fear for her that swelled his heart.

  
To Be Continued


	2. part 2

****

Author's Note: A lot of POTC fic writers seem to have been smitten by the idea of what became of Bootstrap Bill. This fic started out that way but developed into something else. I don't really know how it will turn out, but I'm enjoying writing it!

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

Please read and review. (Special thanks to those who have! Responses at the end of the chapter.)

A Pirates Life and Death part 2 by Ecri

Weeks had passed, and Will still played the part of a slave, though the orders and menial work were the least of it. Such things were not beyond him. He was a blacksmith by trade and was used to manual labor. Even his time with Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl had been rife with backbreaking tasks, and good hard work was something he had come to expect out of life.

  
He had almost lost track of the days since his capture, and had been working incessantly for Commodore Killian, who, for some reason, had chosen to make Will not only the ship's slave, but also his own personal slave. He was a demanding master, and Will continually found ways to displease him, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not.

What rankled most was that Elizabeth was being kept locked in a cage in the hold until they could reach Tongo. Will had been ordered to bring food and water twice a day to those destined for the slaver's block.

He usually lingered over that duty, trading what few words he could with Elizabeth, but just seeing her in that cage, and knowing what fate awaited her was like a sword through his heart. She was brave, of course, and never shed a tear in front of him, but he could see she had shed them. 

He had tried to find a way to escape, but had not found the key to her cage, and of course, she had told him she would not leave without everyone else. She would not be persuaded otherwise, even when the others added their voices to his in protest.

  
"Don't be so noble that you accept a fate like this because of us!" One of the townspeople said to her. "Trust me, if my man were 'ere tellin' me 'e could get me out, I wouldn't give you a second thought!"

Still, she would not be moved. Not that he had found any way to save her anyway. The slaves were well guarded, and Will himself found his every move under close scrutiny. Killian's interest in him seemed more than just in a master for a slave, and he had on one occasion asked Will pointed questions about Bootstrap Bill. He seemed disappointed that Will had never met his father, yet seemed at the same time to be enjoying it was though he was privy to some information Will could not have. Will assumed this to be the case, since he knew little about his father save what he had learned from Captain Jack Sparrow and the cursed crew of the Black Pearl

He would lie awake at might formulating and discarding plan after plan for his and Elizabeth's escape, growing more and more aware with each passing night that he would not have the luxury of her presence much longer. The more he thought about it the more convinced he was that escaping seemed beyond him, but bargaining was not.

He heard Jack Sparrow's voice in his head telling him not to do anything stupid, but he shrugged it off and vowed to speak to Killian.

**

Elizabeth sat in the cramped cell with the ten other women who would be sold, and wondered if her father was still alive. When she thought of what had been done to her home, to the people who lived there, merely because Pirates felt they had the right to take whatever they wanted, it made her both angry and sad. 

Thankfully, these pirates had left the women alone. The commodore claimed they were to be sold in good condition, so not one of the men had laid a hand on them.

She was glad Will hadn't been killed, and wouldn't have been able to bear it if he were one of the people whose fate she did not know. When he came to the cage every morning and evening to offer water to the captives, and each day at midday to bring what passed for food in the one meal given to them, she drank in the sight of him. She told herself she had better remember every inch of him for she would likely never see him after she was sold in Tongo. 

  
He was brave, of course, and never shedding a tear in front of her, but she knew he was desperate to find a way to save her. She could tell, however, that he'd been beaten. Brusies showed, purple and ugly under his shirt and at his wrists. His clothes were torn and dirty, and she could see a bruise on one cheek, though he refused to discuss it with her.

She had tried to keep track of days on the ocean, but even if she had done so, it didn't tell her where they were.

"Still thinking there must be a way out, girl?" One of the other women, Maggie by name, asked her. Maggie was a kindly woman, but was bitter and believed the only way to improve the turn her life had taken was to be good at whatever tasks she was asked to perform. With luck, she could buy her freedom in some way.

She nodded. "There has to be. We can save ourselves"

"And how do we do that while we're locked in 'ere?"

"I haven't worked that out, yet."

Maggie laughed. "Tell me when you do." Her tone indicated she was sure Elizabeth wouldn't succeed.

**

Captain Jack Sparrow smiled up at the clear blue sky as he steered his ship towards the island just visible in the distance. "Freedom," he murmured, as the lyrics to that song of Elizabeth's raced through his mind. "really bad eggs" he half-sang, half-spoke.

  
Anamaria came up behind him, laughing. "You sure we can sell this stuff here?"

"We can and we will."

"I've never been there. Is it rough?"

He cocked his head to one side, considering the question. He waved a hand vaguely in the air to no purpose that Anamaria could discern. "Rougher than Tortuga, but I know some people."

She nodded though he couldn't see her and watched him as he smiled at something only he found funny, and laughed at things only he could see or remember. She wondered, not for the first time, just how mad he truly was. As if hearing her unspoken question, he turned to her then, grinning widely, and giving her a wink. She merely shook her head and went back to her post.

**

Will served the Commodore his dinner, and stood by as he was expected to do in case Killian needed something else. It hadn't been a good day. When he'd brought water to Elizabeth and the other women, they'd all been crying. One of the older ladies had died at sometime during the day. The crew had heard the crying and had come to see what had happened. Then they'd tossed the body overboard making sure the prisoners heard it.

Will wanted to comfort Elizabeth, but she stepped back from him. "We don't know why she died." She explained through her tears. "If it was something contagious" she broke off and he understood. She didn't want him to die.

  
"It was likely the lack of decent food and water and the heat of the voyage, Elizabeth."

She nodded. "Yes, but we don't _know_."

He stepped toward her again, reaching a hand through the bars, but she drew back. "Please, Will! I must know that you are safe!"

Will stopped when he heard those words, remembering when he had used the same ones when he'd told her to run and hide at Port Royal.

Will felt his heart breaking, and knew he had to speak to Killian soon. He had heard Killian say they'd reach Tongo in two more weeks. He waited until the Commodore had finished his meal, and moved to clear the dishes. "Commodore," he spoke softly, eyes down, and voice low. "Might I have a word, sir?" He hated showing such deference to the cold-blooded killer, but he had to feign respect for him if he was going to get what he wanted.

Killian sat back in his chair, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. The young man had barely uttered a word to him in weeks, except to plead for the release of one of the women in the hold. "If this is about that woman, boy"

  
Will rushed to interrupt before the Killian could order him not to speak of it, knowing he risked some sort of violent reaction if the commodore was not in the mood to hear him. "In a way it is, sir, but I wanted to offer a tradea parlay."

"Parlay?" Killian frowned. So the boy knew the code. "What did you want?" 

"I want Elizabeth Swann and the others to be dropped off somewhere where they will find safe passage back to Port Royal or to London if that is where they wish to go." Will dared look up then, letting Killian see how serious he was.

Killian's laughter filled the room. "That's all? Why not two of my ships while you're at it?" He was about to dismiss the boy with a hand across the face, when something in his eyes made him stop. Curiosity got the better of him. "Just what is it you have, boy, that you think is worth as much as 10 slaves?"

"I am a blacksmith and a master at the forge. I can make the best swords this side of London. Your men will be better armed than the Royal Navy, for up until you plundered my home, I supplied many of the blades for Port Royal's men of the fleet."

"My men have swords."

"Not like mine. They will be perfectly balanced, sharp and strong, as rich as you would have them."

"And where do you propose I put a forge? In the galley?"

  
Will paused. He hadn't truly thought of that. Then an idea hit him. "Where do you make berth? I can set up there and, given a few weeks, I can"

"Stop, boy!" Killian stood and walked over to the impudent upstart. "What makes you think that a few swords are worth as much as 10 slaves?"

"I do not offer just a few swords. I will make as many as you require, even enough to be sold at any port." Will's eyes were bright with hope. He hadn't thought Killian would let him say as much as he had.

"For how long?"

"As long as you say. For all my life, so long as Elizabeth is safe." 

Killian stared at Will for a moment, then a smile graced his face. It grew into a grin and soon laughed and kept laughing. The sound sent a chill down Will's spine.

**

Will had tried at every turn to find a way to escape and take his fellow prisoners with him, often earning himself beatings or deprivation of food or water by way of punishment. The last time, they'd given him 20 lashes but had forced Elizabeth to watch. Hearing her anguished cries and pleas that they stop hurting him had worked remarkably well in restraining any more attempts he might make. Moreso when Killian had hinted that if he misbehaved again, she would bear his punishment.

Not willing to take that sort of a risk, he had stopped. In truth, lethargy had accomplished what threats and beatings had not. Will had become more submissive and subservient than he ever would have thought possible.

He never guessed his behavior, though certainly a reaction on his part to the heart-stopping idea that Elizabeth might be beaten for his crimes, had more to do with the food and water Killian had begun to give to him.

Killian watched the boy as he ate the food and drank the water he had offered. The boy was half-starved, and that had overruled any caution he might otherwise have had. This had been precisely the reason he'd kept the boy on such miniscule rations to begin with. It had worn him down. He never suspected his food and drink were tainted. 

  
It was fate, Killian thought, that had brought Bootstrap's son to him now. It was meant to be, of that he was sure. And this time, there wouldn't be any last minute reprieve by any meddling interfering busybodies! He grinned as Will finished the meager meal he'd been given; no more than a few spoonfuls of stew, a half a piece of bread and a half a cup of tepid water. The rations would remain small, but the dosage of that with which he had laced them would only increase.

**

This morning, Will had been bound and tied to the ship railing as Elizabeth and the others whom the Commodore intended to be sold into slavery were marched past him. He tried to break free. He struggled with his ropes, and cried out to her, pleading with the Commodore again to free her, but his pleas fell on deaf ears, and the pirates only laughed at his anguish, finally gagging him and striking him when he refused to be silent. He had kept his eyes on Elizabeth until the small boat they'd used to transport her to shore had hit land. It was too far away for him to see her clearly, or even to distinguish her from the others who shared her doom, but he watched anyway until the crew returned counting their money. Then, the Marauder and her sister ships set sail putting unfathomable distance between Will and his true love.

Since that moment, he had done what he'd been told, moving through his days barely seeing the world at all, let alone caring what he did. That she had been taken from him, and he could do nothing to save her was almost impossible to accept. The thought that he might never see her again made him physically ill. Whatever they did to him now, he would not care. Elizabeth was his life, and he had failed her. 

**

Jack, Gibbs, and Anamaria strolled happily back to the dock where they'd left the Black Pearl. They'd made enough money this trip to buy all the supplies they needed, and provide an impressive profit for each member of the crew.

  
He gave orders to Gibbs and Anamaria and the pair nodded, happy over the profit they'd made. Finally Jack explained his own destination. "And I shall make my way to the Painted Parrot and see how much rum they be willing to part with!" He sashayed towards the pub leaving Gibbs and Anamaria staring after him.

"Do we trust him?"  


"He's your captain, girl!"

"I mean do we trust him to find his way back to the ship after he's had a few drinks?"

Gibbs nodded. "Well, we can come after him ourselves in a couple of hours."

Jack meanwhile had made it almost to the pub, stepping around people, and singing to himself when he realized that a large throng of unruly people stood between him and his watering hole. "Pardon mecoming through" He started out polite, but eventually resorted to shoving. Finally breaking through the group, he found himself staring at a line of women, dressed in rags, all bound at the wrists and gagged.

Jack's eyes widened in surprise as he swayed a bit, and raised his hand to clap it on the shoulder of the man standing beside him. "What's all this?"

"Traders. Them's for sale!" The small, weasely man smiled.

Jack pulled away from him, making the movement more circular than most would have, and stared at the man. "Slavers?"

The man nodded eagerly.

  
Jack's body finished the circular swaying and he stared at the line of women. One of them was staring at him. He brightened at that thought, but then he realized why. It was Elizabeth Swann.

Jack sighed. "Bloody hell."

**

A stifling darkness fell on Tongo as a thick fog covered the docks. Captain Jack Sparrow and his men rowed towards the anchored ship, Avenger.

Sparrow waited for the opportune moment to act. Jack had tried to buy Elizabeth, but he didn't have enough gold on him and the traders wouldn't agree to let him go back to his ship. Sighing again, he had nodded to Elizabeth in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, and moved off to learn more about the man who had made the purchase. The man was planning to take Elizabeth to the orient to resell her making a hefty profit.

He had learned who it was, and now, he was about to do more pirating than he'd intended when he'd first reached Tongo.

Moving stealthily, he and his men climbed aboard the Avenger and searched for Elizabeth.

Jack crept into the hold, and sure enough, found a cage holding one lonedecidedly female figure. "I told you darlin', that it wouldn't work between you and me, so you really have to stop following me about."

Elizabeth whirled at the unexpected sound of a familiar voice. "Jack!"

He held an unsteady hand to his lips. "Shhh!" He moved around the cage to study the lock, his hands moving around it but not really touching it. "We want to keep this quiet for a bit." He looked around the room, and spotted a ring of keys hanging on the wall. Pulling it towards him, he inserted the key in the lock but it wouldn't turn. 

He looked about the hold taking note of some struts that seemed about to give, and some spots on the floor that seemed too damp for anyone's good. A closer inspection proved to Jack that the Avenger was likely in port for more than buying slaves. They were in need of repairs.

A loud crash followed by yelling and the sound of metal meeting metal made him hurry. "That's done it. No more secrecy!" He tried another key. Again, nothing happened.

After several more, he tossed the keys aside. "None of those." As the sounds of fighting above them grew more frantic so did Jack's search for a way to open the cage. He stood back his hands again hovering by the lock. Taking a step backwards, he whirled around as the back of his legs came into contact witha bench.

A pleased smile crossed his face as he lifted it up and shoved it through the bars. Putting all his strength into it, he shoved hard. For a moment nothing happened, but then a loud crack reverberated through the hold. Splinters flew off the bench as it shattered leaving the cage intact.

  
Elizabeth sighed, and began to make suggestions. "What about"

  
Jack whirled on her, holding up a hand for silence. "I'm not through. That one wasn't mine, anyway." As that thought passed through his head, he wondered where Will was. He smiled to himself as he considered the chances that Will had commandeered the Dauntless and set off to find Elizabeth again.

He stood wavering, unsure what to do, when behind him he felt a movement. In one swift move that seemed beyond his abilities, he drew his sword and slashed out at the man who stood behind him severing a lock of hair from the man's head. Blades crossed, he and the man circled each other. 

Jack seemed to be retreating, but while Elizabeth watched, she realized he had a plan. The man pressed his seeming advantage, while Jack spoke in an incessant stream.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that having a woman on board is bad luck? I ask because everyone's always tellin' me that, and I wondered what you'd done to get them not to." He stepped to his left. "Not that I ever listen, mind you, but listening ain't what it's cracked up to be, if you know what I mean"  


The man followed Jack's footsteps, and prepared to lunge at him, when he suddenly found himself falling through the floorboards and hitting keel. Jack had maneuvered the man towards the damp floorboards knowing they were too rotted to hold his weight. In moments, his struggles began in earnest as the ship began to take on water.

Jack shook his head in rueful disapproval. "Nah, see that's not the way. When you creep up on someone in your hold, you kill 'im! Don't dance with him, mate!"

Jack finally found the key, which had been kept on the wall on a peg opposite the first ring he'd tried. Opening the door, he held out a hand to help Elizabeth. "Come on, then. Friend's waiting."

She stopped then staring at him. "Is it Will? Did you bring Will with you?"

Jack stopped then, weaving unsteadily on his feet. "No, I didn't, love, though I gather he's not where he should be." He held a finger across her lips to keep her from continuing. "Later. We'll have time to catch up and chat over a cup on the Pearl" He lowered his voice to a near whisper as he turned away and walked towards the stairs leading above deck. "though my cup will have rum in it."

He led her out of the hold, and towards the rail. He called to Gibbs as swung down to the docks from a rope while holding fast to Elizabeth. "Gibbs! Retreat! Back to the Pearl!" Gibbs resounded the call. The crew of the Black Pearl rowed towards their ship, and in moments, were safely aboard and heading to sea.

**

Sparrow dug through a chest in his cabin and produced a dress for Elizabeth.

"Do all pirates keep women's clothing aboard ship?"

  
Jack's head moved in a bobbing motion that might have been a nod. "Most do, though most have been known to keep a woman or two aboard."

"I thought a woman aboard ship was unlucky."

  
He smiled, though it was a bit of a leer as well. "Yeah, but not 'avin' one can be lonely."

He left the room to her, giving her a moment to dress while he sent to the galley for food. By the time she was ready, he held the tray in his hands. He set it before her, and she didn't stand on ceremony. 

He watched her eat, a grin spreading across his face at the sight. "That's twice I'vebeen involvedin your rescue. What happened?"

Elizabeth put down the bread she'd been eating, and began to explain.

Jack listened patiently to her story frowning all the while. "So this, Killian has Will?" 

"Yes. He kept Will as a personal slave, and the other men are being made to work the boat with the promise that one day they'll be offered the chance to be pirates if they do what they're told."

"But Killian didn't make that offer to Will?"

She shook her head. "No, and I wondered why Will had been singled out."

Jack was silent a moment, and when he spoke, it was barely a whisper. "That's interesting. I wonder that myself." Mired in thought, it was several minutes before he spoke again. "Do you know where Killian was headed?"

Elizabeth nodded. "It's" her face fell. She'd overheard one of the men who'd taken her to be sold say the name of their next port. "It's"

"Sounds like? How many syllables?" Jack smirked.

"It's not funny!"

"No, it's not. All right, then. I'll pull out the charts, and we can go through the nearby ports." Jack moved to his desk and rummaged through it finally bringing out a roll of maps. "Here we are!"

"You keep charts and maps?"

"Now, how do you think I get around, on my good looks and a stiff breeze?" He bowed low over the table as he spread the maps over it, neatly avoiding Elizabeth's food.

"Well, noI meanlet's just find Will."

  
"Oh, look, something we agree on."

They poured over the map together. They had been at it for an hour, when Elizabeth's gaze finally fell on a corner of a map at the bottom of the pile. "There!" She shouted with joy."

"Where?" Jack asked, rifling through the maps and tossing each to the floor until the one she'd pointed to was the only one visible. "Not there? You didn't mean there."

"I did! That's what Killian said."

"Simple enough name, yet you couldn't remember it?"

"What's the point?"

Jack's eyes widened. "What's the point? We aren't going there! There's nothing you could say that would make me take you there!"

"Killian is taking Will there!"

  
"So you told me!" Jack bent and retrieved his maps from the floor and began to roll them neatly. The rolling went wrong at some point, and, left with a tube smaller at one end, he gave up and chucked it over his shoulder at the wall. 

"You told Will that you were a good friend of his father!"

Jack guessed where she was going with that, and shook a finger at her. "Don't! I'm warning you!"

"He said that you claimed to be one of the few men to know him as William Turner."

"I ain't gonna listen." He began to hum a song to himself, but gave up when he realized it was the one she'd taught him.

"Well, now William Turner needs you! Don't turn your back on him."

Jack hung his head, and threw his arms in the air. "Why'd you say that? I asked you not to say that." He sighed heavily. Then swore heavily. Looking at her, he noticed she was still staring at him, hope and fear in her eyes. "All right. All right. No need to worry. Captain Jack will get you by tonight. He'll take you to your special island."

He turned towards the door, and, without bothering to open it, yelled. "Gibbs! Anamaria!" The two entered. "Set course forScratch."

Gibbs eyes widened. "You can't be serious."

"Do I look like I might be 'avin' a laugh?" Jack demanded.

Gibbs nodded. Anamaria asked tentatively, "Speed, sir?"

Jack sighed. "As fast as she'll go."

  
"Aye, sir!" The two retreated to carry out the orders.

Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room, a smug, happy look on her face. 

Jack stared at her. "I don't know why you're so happy. You don't even know where we're going."

"I do. We're going to some tiny little island called Scratch to save Will."

"Yeah, we are. Now ask yourself, 'Who's gonna save us?'"

To Be Continued

Padfoot4ever: Thanks! You were first to review this story and I am absolutely thrilled to find a familiar name here! I will keep it up! Thanks again! BTW, I was thrilled to find your review for Keeping to the Road. Elven grief fascinates me. Thanks again!

Melanie2: I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter! I'm absolutely ecstatic that you think it flowed elegantly! I've never been told that before! Keep reading, and I will try not to disappoint.

Sunny 18: Thanks so much! Your words of encouragement mean a great deal to me! Don't worry! Everyone's favorite pirate is coming to the rescue. Difficult character to write since it was all in the brilliant delivery of Johhny Depp! (IMHO, one of the most underrated actors to come out of the 80s!)

Jackfan2: Of course, Jack's gonna swing inHe's got to! It's not a POTC fanfic without Jack! I hope this chapter meets with your approval. There's a bit of comedy, or at least my attempt at comedy, in it, but Jack is sooooo funny I had to put that in. Captain Jack Sparrow has to be one of the more difficult characters I've tried to write, but I had to give it a shot. Please please let me know if you think I hit anywhere near the mark. Thanks for your review!


	3. part 3

****

Author's Note: A lot of POTC fic writers seem to have been smitten by the idea of what became of Bootstrap Bill. This fic started out that way but developed into something else. I don't really know how it will turn out, but I'm enjoying writing it!

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

Please read and review. (Special thanks to those who have! Responses at the end of the chapter.)

A Pirates Life and Death part 3 by Ecri

Will Turner understood why Killian had rejected his offer and sold Elizabeth. Killian had no use for a blacksmith for any length of time, since, if he wanted weapons he stole them. If he wanted anything Will could forge for him, he would steal it, and offering himself as a slave was hardly reasonable since Killian already possessed that.

His mind worked feverishly trying to think of a way to get back to Tongo and buy Elizabeth's freedom. The number of obstacles to that goal seemed overwhelming, and, in truth, he had thought for awhile that it was impossible, but now it was the only though that gave him hope.

He was hard at work, repairing a ripped sail. The work was undemanding and left his mind free to plan his own escape. He had finally determined that escape was next to impossible. They sailed to an island called Scratch, but even when they stopped along the way for supplies, Will was always shackled and locked in the captain's quarters with a full guard outside the door. He thought it odd they took such care to keep him aboard when the other slaves were not watched half as carefully.

There was something in this. What interest could Killian have in him? Why was he being singled out? Could it have something to do with his background? His father? Was Bootstrap Bill the sort of pirate who had many mortal enemies who might be likely to visit their revenge upon Bootstrap's son if the Pirate himself was not available? There were too many questions, and not nearly enough information. He would have to find out more about this man, but he couldn't come out and ask the captain, could he?

Then again, why not? One thing he had learned in the months he'd served Killian was that the man was vain. If Will showed enough respect and deference to the man, he might be flattered enough to tell more than he should.

No, that wouldn't work. Aside from being vain, he was also paranoid. Will doubted even the crew knew much one way or the other about where they were going and why. Of course, he had nothing to lose by trying to find more information.

That evening, he began to ask questions of the crew, learning which of the men were willing to talk and which should be avoided. One man in particular was forthcoming and talkative to the point of being downright jolly. Quick to laugh, the man welcomed Will's questions, believing he could turn Will into a Pirate.

"Commodore Killian has no interest in making me a pirate. He didn't make the same offer to me as he did the other men." Will explained. 

The result of this information was immediate. The man's smile fell from his face and he paled. Looking out toward the bow, he seemed to make some calculations, then he turned back to Will. He forced a smile on his face and clapped the younger man on the back. "We may yet change 'is mind, me lad!" From that point on, the man, Trilby by name, was exceptionally kind to him. This in itself proved to Will he had indeed been singled out for something, and he was sure it had something to do with Scratch.

**

Captain Jack Sparrow spent the nights deep in thought and roaming his ship from bow to stern and back again. Gibbs or Anamaria had plotted to be sure one of them held the wheel during the night so they could keep an eye on him. This night, was Gibbs' shift. He watched Jack make his way to the bow again. The pattern he had fallen into occasionally, randomly altered. Sometimes Jack stood in the bow staring where they were going. Sometimes he stared into the ocean's depths, looking for something within the swirling black water. Sometimes he stared up at the night sky.

Now, he did none of those things, and turned immediately upon reaching the bow to make his way back to the stern. As he passed Gibbs, the crewman called to him. "Penny fer yer thoughts, Jack?"

"Too high a price!"

"Well, tell 'em to me for free, then, for if you keep this up night after night, we'll need to replace the deck!" He sighed and stared at the obviously troubled Captain. "Come, now, Captain! Is it the girl? You know having a woman aboard"

"Is bad luck, I know." Jack sounded world weary.

"Don't scoff! The first time we 'ad 'er on board a ship I sailed, we come across the Black Pearl as it devoured it's prey."

"And pulled Will Turner from the wreckage, so it was obviously lucky for him." Jack shrugged. "It's our destination that worries me, not our passenger."

"Aye, Scratch is a place of legend. I know of no one who would willingly go there." 

"Present company included." Jack stared at Gibbs. "Do you believe we can beat Killian there?"

"I can't say. Don't know much about 'is fleet, but three large ships can't go as fast as one small one." His eyes twinkled in pride. "An' when that one is the Black Pearl, well, Killian would be hard pressed to catch us."

"So you _do_ think we'll beat Killian there?"

"I wouldn't care to make the prediction, since I've no clue what sort of head start they've got on us"

"So you _don't_ think we'll beat Killian there?"

"But the Black Pearl is the fastest ship I've sailed, barring the Interceptor of course, and since that one was sunk, the Pearl is the fastest afloat."

"So you _do_ think we'll beat Killian there?"

"On the other hand"

"All right, that's fine. I'll just go back to wearin' out the deck." Jack headed back towards the stern, mumbling to himself, and occasionally stopping as though listening to something only he heard.

When he reached the stern, he came to a decision, and turned to climb the highest sails. Once at the top, he closed his eyes and felt the air all around him. Turning around slowly, he completed a circle and ended up back where he started. Calling down then to Anamaria, he gave his first order in quite some time. "Put in at the next port for supplies!"

Anamaria nodded. "Aye, Captain!"

Jack smiled and spoke to himself. "I never get tired of hearing that!" 

"Jack Sparrow!" A shrill voice called from below. Jack looked down to see Elizabeth staring up at him obviously annoyed.

"I do get tired of hearing that!" Sighing heavily as one unfairly burdened, he looked up at the sky as though imploring help. Then, when none was immediately forthcoming, he climbed back down to the deck. "What is it, now, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth fumed. "Why are we stopping?"

"For supplies, savvy?"

"No, I don't 'savvy'! We should be trying to catch up with Will!" She glared at him, crossing her arms.

"We are trying to catch up with dear sweet William! But we don't want to run out of things like water and food, now do we?" He nodded his head then thinking he must have gotten through to her. "Good!" he turned then and with his arms still bent at the elbow, hands up, and wrists hanging at an odd angle, he headed towards his cabin.

"Jack!"

"_Captain! _That's _Captain _Sparrow!" He called, turning reluctantly to face her. He wasn't prepared for the hurt and sorrowful look she gave him. 

"We must find him." Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

He nodded and when he spoke, he spoke as softly as she had. For once there was not a trace of pettiness, indignation, amusement, or silliness in his voice. "I know, love. We will."

**

Will Turner greeted Trilby as he made his way to the Commodore's Quarter's from the Galley. The Captain's dinner was balanced on a tray, and Trilby paused to open the cabin door for the younger man. "Thanks, Trilby." Will nodded. 

Will walked into the Cabin, easily following the roll of the ship, so he could keep from spilling anything. The Commodore despised a messy tray. Carefully, he put the tray down in front of the Commodore, not saying a word.

The Commodore sat to eat, and Will, as always, was expected to stand at the door, in case Killian needed anything.

Killian ate slowly, obviously relishing the meal. Will tried not to watch, but his own stomach betrayed him growling loudly. A slave's rations were generally the day's leftover's and there was little leftover. Will had lost twenty pounds in his months aboard the ship.

Will blushed at the noise of his stomach, wishing there was something he could do to stifle the sound. He feared Killian would be angered.

To Will's surprise, Killian laughed. "You hungry, boy?"

  
Will considered how best to answer. He did not want to fall into some trap of semantics and risk another beating. If he answered yes, would Killian feel he was ungrateful and beat him or deprive him of food? If he answered no, would Killian, knowing he was lying, beat him or cut his rations? There was little he could do either way, and at this point honesty was just easier. "Yes, Commodore."

Killian looked thoughtful. "When was your last meal boy?"

Will's own short temper flared at the illogic of this question, and a fire bloomed in his eyes. With great effort, he kept his irritation from his voice, though it was plain upon his face. "My last real meal, Commodore, was dinner the evening you looted Port Royal."

Killian stared at Will. Getting up, he crossed to the door. "You still think you can escape, do you?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it or on his face. "You can't you know. There's no escape for you where we're going."

Will stared at the man, hatred, distrust, and anger flashing in his deep brown eyes. "Wherever we are going, I will find a way out, and I will find Elizabeth and rescue her."

"Still going on about your strumpet, boy? Give it up! She's been sold and resold by now. You'd never find her. The fellow who bought her was heading to the Orient to make a sale. She's dead or wishes she were by now." Killian smirked. "As for you escaping, it can't be done."

Will actually smiled, a determined look in his eyes, that made Killian take a step back. "Then it may just take a little longer."

Killian drew back his hand to strike Will, but stopped. Will kept staring at him, the bemused smirk on his face. He didn't flinch, and Killian, nonplussed by the lack of reaction, slowly lowered his hand. "What makes you think you can do this?" 

All caution gone, Will spoke honestly. "Because I must."

"You must? That's it?"

Will just stared at him.

"You think you're better than me, don't you, boy?"

"Any honest man is better than a rogue like you!"

Killian's anger flared, but he restrained himself again. This boy was too valuable to him to lose him to a moment of emotional indiscretion. He laughed at Will. "You may be honest, but your father was a pirate."

"You knew him?" Will's voice betrayed his sorrow both that the man knew who he was, and that he himself had not known his father.

"Aye. I knew him. I held him once as I hold you now! I had the same plans for him that I now have for his son!"

Will smiled triumphantly.

"Have you lost touch with reality, boy? What could bring such a smile to your face?"

"You held him as you do me?"

Killian nodded.

  
"Then my hope had doubled, for I know my father's fate. He did not die by your hand." He forced down the mental images of his dream. He did not have the luxury to feel guilt over this now. "Your words and your tone tell me he escaped." He smiled again. "So escape is not impossible. Indeed, it seems more probable than ever since the blood of he who once escaped you runs in my veins!"

Killian now failed in his restraint, and brought his hand back, striking Will so hard across the face, that he lost his balance and struck his head on the wall behind him.

Anger and frustration made Will abandon caution and he struck back, sending Killian stumbling backwards. Will took his chance, small though it was, and tore a sword from a display on the wall. He held Killian at bay for a moment or two, then slashed out at him with the weapon. 

Killian drew his own sword from where he's placed it behind his desk, and approached Will cautiously. He had seen the boy hold back three of his own men with a sword. He was obviously well trained.

As they fought, Killian began to feel a grudging respect for Will and whoever had taught him. "You fight well, boy. Where did you learn?"

"I taught myself." He lunged then at the pirate, drawing blood from the man's shoulder.

Incensed, the Commodore's movements became quicker and sharper. 

Will, who was not quite himself because of the harsh treatment, the weight loss, the lack of food, water, and proper sleep, stumbled against such a sudden and fierce onslaught. Killian pressed the advantage, and Will lost his footing, going down. When he tried to stand, he found Killian's blade at his throat. 

Killian smiled triumphantly. "Release your sword!"

Reluctantly, knowing he was defeated, he did as he was told.

Killian's eyes narrowed as he considered the boy's remarkable skill with the blade, and how close he had come to losing this duel. He called to his first mate. "Baxter!" Will remained motionless until the man appeared at the door.

"Aye, sir?"

Killian spoke to Baxter, though his eyes never left Will Turner's. "I want Mr. Turner punished. Drag him."

Baxter's face paled, and he took a step back.

Killian noticed and would have none of it. "Now, Mr. Baxter!"

"Aye, sir!" Baxter took Will's arm and roughly pulled him up off the floor and out onto the deck. Baxter looked up then at the setting sun. "Sir, sun's gone down. Did you want to wait 'til morning?"

Killian turned enraged eyes on the man. "I said now!"

"Aye, sir!" Baxter said again, hurrying on his way to follow the Commodore's orders.

Will was taken to the stern of the ship, and heavy chains were attached to his wrists. The other end of the chains were wrapped securely aboard ship. Will would be dragged behind the Marauder until the Commodore ordered otherwise. 

Killian approached the bound young man, and with a malicious grin, tore his shirt off exposing his chest, back and arms to whatever creatures of the deep would care to swim nearby, not that the flimsy material would have offered much protection, but Killian was going for a psychological victory. Wondering what more he could do, he looked Will Turner up and down. He gestured to the blacksmith's feet. "Remove his shoes." 

  
The men did as instructed clearly enjoying their Commodore's attention to detail. When they'd finished, the Commodore again appraised his victim's condition. He stepped closer to Will until they were nose to nose, and looked into Will's eyes. Seeing defiance still within, he felt fury overtake him.

Taking a knife from its sheath at his hip stepped back and swiped the knife at Will's pants, cutting away the pant legs at the knees.

Trilby stepped forward then, helping Baxter attach more chains to Will's ankles. He'd be unable to move under his own power with the added weight. Trilby looked up at Will, and offered him a look of apology. Will didn't hold this against the man, and inclined his head slightly to let the man know this was so.

A plank was extended out the back of the ship, and Will was made to walk it. The chains were heavy and hindered his movement. He looked out at the black water, wishing it was at least daylight. The idea of being down there unable to see and at the mercy of whatever night feeders might want to swim by and take a bite worried Will. He could think of no course of action to save himself from this ordeal. He could easily drown or die in any number of ways. He looked back then at Trilby, who was waiting nearby. 

Baxter waited only for the final order from Killian.

The Commodore stood at a fair distance. He looked Will in the eye, and gave the order. "Now!"

Baxter shook the plank making Will lose his balance and plunge into the murky depths of the black water.

To Be Continued

  
Responses to reviews:

Padfoor4ever: Thanks! I'm flattered. Don't worry! I'll keep writing as long as I can think of things to write about!

Jackfan2: What a relief! Jack is hard to write. I didn't want him to come off lookingunJACKlike! Thanks for your enthusiastic review! I hope you like this chapterthough it will take a while for things to unfold, and to learn more about Scratch.

Missy: Thanks! It's great to hear that I'm keeping everyone in character, always the biggest worry in Fanfic, IMHO. I love the angst, too! That's why I write it!


	4. part 4

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Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! They're really keeping me going! I haven't gotten many for this story, but just when I start to think no one likes it I get an amazing one! Thank you all. (Replies to reviews at end of chapter!)

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 4 by Ecri

Elizabeth stared out at the open water as the ship sliced through the silent night. She could see little except what the moon and the light from the ship illuminated. Anamaria came up behind her then. "It's best not to brood, miss."

Elizabeth smiled at her. "Please call me Elizabeth."

Anamaria nodded, wondering if the woman remembered her name. "I'm Anamaria." She glanced to the right out to sea. "We'll be putting into port by midday tomorrow. We'll pick up some supplies and head back within an hour. Don't worry. We know how to work fast."

Elizabeth nodded, then asked the question foremost in her mind. "Piracy is an odd occupation for a woman, isn't it?" 

"Odder than some, not as odd as others." Anamaria looked carefully at the other woman. "What's the story with you and Jack?"

"What story?" Elizabeth looked confused.

"The story. The history. Why did he immediately decide to buy you when he saw you in the auction block, and when that failed, why did he decide to steal you?" Anamaria knew Jack Sparrow didn't like to put himself out for anyone.

"I had assumed he'd managed to free Will, and Will made him come after me. When I saw that wasn't soI'm sorry, I really don't know why he did it." She looked carefully at the other woman. "I am grateful to him that he did.

"So this Will Turnerhe your husband?"

Elizabeth blushed.

"Ahh! I guess not!" Anamaria laughed. "Gibbs tells me he's being held by Killian on the Marauder."

Elizabeth nodded.

"No wonder Jack wants us to get there first."

"What?" Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat.

"Nothing at all, Anamaria was just leaving, weren't you?" Jack Sparrow stood behind Elizabeth urging Anamaria to go.

The woman nodded. "Aye."

Elizabeth whirled on Jack. "What did she mean? What aren't you telling me?"

"Oh, there's a lot that I'm not tellin' you. Not the least of which is the kind of man Commodore Killian is." Jack's eyes lingered on hers, and his voice grew lower, deeper, more resonant, and Elizabeth had to strain to hear it. "Will's only hope is for us to beat him there. A better hope would be if we" He waved his hands vaguely in the air before him in a random pattern. "bumped into him on the way, but the Marauder, and her sister ships are too much for just the Pearl by herself. 

Jack Sparrow sighed. "If Will survives the trip to the island, which is likely, since Killian needs him alive there, we might be able to break him free when we get to Scratch."

"Might?" Elizabeth grabbed for Jack's arm as he tried to walk away.

Sparrow shook off her hand. "That's right! Look, this is no picnic, and this isn't any sort of a fun ride! Killian plays for keeps."

"You talk as if you know him."

All anger left Jack's face. He tilted his head to one side. "Yes, I do talk that way, don't I?

**

Will Turner felt an odd motion as the chains at his wrist seemed to pull suddenly upwards. He knew he'd swallowed more water than he should have and the salty, warm seawater was in his mouth, his nose, his ears. He spit and sputtered astounded to be rising from the water's depths. He was hauled up and up, even with the deck and no further. Hanging from the chains, dripping, and exhausted, he wanted to kick and swing, anything to bring himself onto the deck, but he was unable. The heavy chains and his aching muscles allowed him no movement.

Swinging in the predawn air, bare chest, and what pants he had left sliced to tatters by the speed of the ship and the tugging of sea creatures, Will began to shiver. He could hear shouting on the deck, but could not discern what it might be. In moments, unconsciousness claimed him.

**

Trilby glared at the First Mate. "I say bring him in! We've had him down there for too long! Bring him aboard!"

The Mate glared at the man. "We bring him aboard when the Commodore says and not before!" He leaned closer to the older man. "Unless you want to second guess the Commodore!"

Trilby froze in his tracks. "No" He glanced forlornly at the young man, trembling from muscle strain and chill, and Lord knew how many hidden injuries from all that time immersed in these waters. "NoI don't want to do that."

  
The First Mate nodded. "I didn't think so!" He chortled as Trilby moved below decks.

**

Captain Jack Sparrow rowed to shore with a few of his men. He'd made Anamaria stay on board the Pearl to keep Elizabeth there. He didn't need her along on this trip, and he was sure she'd end up getting them in trouble. 

He'd taken only four men with him, and planned on getting just enough to get them to Scratch. If they made it out of there, he could resupply on the way back. He eyed the local pub. "Gibbs!"

Gibbs appeared at his side. "Aye, sir!"

"I'm scouting for information, savvy?"

Gibbs eyes the pub, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Aye, sir."

Sparrow turned to face the man. "No, I mean it."

Gibbs nodded, the smile still in place. "Aye!"

"I don't think you think I mean it."

Gibbs took a moment to work that one out. "Oh, I do!"

"Gibbs! Come with me to scout for information!" Jack set off towards the pub, his peculiar gait more pronounced than usual. 

Inside the pub, Jack surveyed the crowd. The usual assortment of cutthroats and villains were scattered across the room. Jack sauntered towards the bar. After several minutes of inquiries about the Marauder, he realized he wasn't getting anywhere.

"Gibbs!" Gibbs again appeared by his side. "I'm not getting anywhere."

"You've only had two pints, Captain! Give it time!"

"No, no, no!" He sighed in exasperation. "I'm trying to get information about the Marauder!" He hit his head against the bar, mumbling.

  
"Pardon, sir, I didn't get that last bit." Gibbs leaned closer. 

Jack sat up. Holding his head up with his right hand, his elbow propped against the table. "I knew you didn't think I meant it!"

"If you pardon my sayin' sir, what information are you looking for?"

Jack stared at Gibbs as though the man were crackers. "If I knew that, I'd have the information, wouldn't I?"

Gibbs took another minute to work that out. "Yes, I suppose you would."

Jack sat scowling into his drink when he heard a word. He leaned towards Gibbs. "That man said 'Marauder', didn't he?"

"I wasn't listenin' sir."

"What use are ya Gibbs? Go on back to the dock. Check that we have all our supplies. I'll be there in ten minutes and we'll shove off!" 

"Aye, sir!" Gibbs ran off to do as he was told.

Jack listened from the bar, his face momentarily shifting from slightly drunk confusion to perfectly sober clarity and back again. Rising from his seat, he took up his glass and sauntered as only he could towards the man he'd heard say the word 'Marauder.'

He listened for a moment to the man's story, then came up next to him, mumbling. "You say you're with the Marauder, mate? I didn't see it in port."

"It departed a few hours ago. What business is it of yours?"

Jack smiled his slyest smile. "You don't seem happy with the Commodore by the sound of it."

The man tried to ignore Jack, but Jack knew all he needed. Whoever this man was, whatever position he'd held on the Marauder, he'd had himself put ashore, relinquishing any right to any treasure he hadn't yet spent.

"Does the name Will Turner mean anything to you?" Jack spoke clearly and loud enough to be heard above the din of the pub.

The man froze and spun to face Jack. His face was pale as snow. "What"

"Don't try an' hide it, mate. I can see it in your face. You're paler than the whitest beach in the Caribbean! What's Killian done to Will Turner?" Jack's eyes glinted dangerously, and he looked just crazy enough to scare the man.

"Who's Turner to you?"

"I owe 'im a life debt, mate. 'E saved my life in Port Royal some time ago, and I aim to repay it. Besides, I know Killian. Me and a fella named Bootstrap Bill met him a good ten years ago. I owe him, too, but he won't like my payin' it back."

The man stood still, somehow going paler.

"What's yer name?" Jack asked.

"Trilby."

"Trilby, you've gotta ask yourself, 'is it worth my life not to tell this gentleman what 'e wants to know?' The answer to that should be no, but I'll wait for you to catch up with my sheer brilliance."

In a moment Trilby nodded. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

  
"Is Turner still alive? Is he aboard the Maruader or one of her sister ships? How fast it the Marauder going? Is Killian planning to use the kid in that ritual thing, and how much time has the kid got before there's nothing left for me to rescue?"

Trilby sighed. "You'd better sit down, friend." Jack did. "I left the Marauder because I couldn't stand what Killian did to Turner. It wasn't right! Even if his days are numbered."

"Don't be so sure! I'm renumbering them! Go on then."

Trilby recounted the tale of what Killian had done to Will Turner, and before long, the entire clientele of the pub stood in rapt attention, horrified that one of their own could be quite that malicious.

Jack listened showing little of the rage he felt inside. Will Turner deserved this no more than Jack had deserved being marooned on a deserted island in the Caribbean by his crew. No more than Bootstrap Bill had deserved to die strapped to a cannon and half mad from the living beneath the sea for all those years. 

Truth be told, Jack did feel he owed the kid something for his help in escaping the executioner's noose, and Killian deserved retribution, but he had not thought even Killian could have done this.

One muscle twitched in Jack's right cheek. His eyes, harder than steel and colder than the deepest depths of Davy Jones' Locker, Jack felt real outrage for the first time in yearsor rather for the first time in years he felt outrage at how someone not himself had been treated. Puzzled, he wondered where such thoughts had come from. Realization hit.

"Bloody hell!" He slammed a fist into the table causing everyone to jump. Most assumed he had bee angered by the story as they all had, and they were right, but it was more than that. "Stupid kid found the moral streak I thought I lost!" he smiled then in recollection. "Course, his old man had been trying to do that, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised."

"Trilby! Would you care to come aboard the Black Pearl and join us in freeing Will Turner and wreaking havoc on the Marauder and her Commodore?" Jack tried to speak clearly so Trilby would hear every word.

  
Trilby swallowed. "One ship against three?"

Jack nodded. 

"No, then, I'm fine where I am."

Jack stood, swaying a bit, and making odd, seemingly random gestures. "You left your ship and turned your back on treasure only to forget the only chance you have at exacting any real revenge?" 

Trilby nodded.

"All right then," Jack said. "Long as we're clear where you stand."

Jack left the pub, late, but pleased to know they were right. Once back to the launch, he turned to Gibbs. "All provisions aboard?"

"Aye."

"Shove off! Get to the Pearl and fast!"

Gibbs and the others rowed for all they were worth, and made it back to the Pearl in record time. 

Facing an angry Elizabeth, Jack could only smile.

"You're late! You said an hour! It's been three!"

"I was gathering information about your love, my dear." He turned to Gibbs. "Full ahead, don't spare the sails!"

Hours later, Jack again climbed the rigging and sat in the crow's nest. Looking out to sea towards scratch, he knew he wouldn't beat Killian to the island, but he knew they were right behind him and gaining fast. He was never sure how he knew such things, but he was invariably right. 

A slow smile spread across his face. "We'll catch up to Killian soon enough. Don't worry Bootstrap. I won't let 'im 'arm your son anymore than I let 'im 'arm you! ButI will do to him what I should have done years ago."

**

Killian watched as Will Turner hung limply from the masts. He hadn't allowed his men to take him down, even when they'd approached port for supplies. He had stayed aboard ship, allowing his First Mate to row ashore for what they needed and he had stared at the young man, hanging limp and almost lifeless.

Killian knew he still lived, but some of the men feared they'd gone too far. He'd quieted that nonsense at once, and now was sure Turner couldn't have any fight left in him. Returning to his quarters, Killian locked the door and settled at his desk. Opening it slowly, he pulled forth a small wooden box. Gingerly, he lifted the top and peered inside. A soft glow was emitted by something within.

"I will be there soon! The bargain will be honored for yet another year!"

The glow in the box brightened and pulsed, and Killian stared into it, basking in the false warmth and the feeling of victory. Death was meaninglessas long as it was someone else's.

**

Will Turner awoke still hanging from the masts. The pain in his arms, wrists, and shoulders from the harsh treatment and tight ropes and the two days of hanging was indescribable. Lack of food and water left him weak and unable to raise his head. His lips were cracked and parched from the sun and his body felt raw and dry. He imagined that if someone touched him he would crumble into dust. His eyes felt crusted closed, and on one leg, he felt the throbbing sting of a jellyfish. 

He heard people below on the deck talking but couldn't make out what was said. A word here or there pierced the fog of his thoughts, but he could learn nothing from it.

He wanted to call out to Elizabeth, but his throat was too dry. He felt the impulse to cry, but his body would not allow the release of the precious fluid it could not spare.

How long, he wondered, would they keep him here? How long before cut loose his dead body and allowed it to plunge into the depths? He wondered then if his final resting place would be near his father's. If it were, he would spend eternity within arms reach of the man he'd longed to find, and the man he'd killed. These thoughts haunted him as consciousness again slipped from his grasp.

**

Killiam stared up at the boy hanging from his masts. He would need to walk under his own power once they reached the island. He called to the First Mate. "Get him down." He ordered, standing by the wheel to watch.

The First Mate followed the orders immediately, not willing to risk the Commodore's wrath in the face of what he'd done to Turner.

Killian watched as Turner was lowered from the winch upon which he'd been hung,, but, except for crying out in pain as muscles cramped from being three days in the same position, he remained senseless. 

"Baxter!"

Baxter approached Killian. "Aye, Commodore!"

Killian glared at Turner, but the anticipation in his eyes was hard to miss. Baxter wasn't a bright man, but the way Killian stared at Will Turner made his blood run cold.

"Bring him around, but just barely. We reach Scratch in 12 hours. He's got to be able to walk by then. Walk, crawl, whatever! But don't bring him fully to his senses, or you might stand in for him!" Killian glared at the man until he shook in his boots.

**

Elizabeth Swann stared out at the sea willing this scrap of an island with the unlikely name of Scratch to appear somewhere before her. It was maddening! They'd traveled so far and for so long! She hadn't seen Will in months.

She turned away from the sea abruptly. Staring instead at Captain Jack Sparrow who stood in the crow's nest staring towards Scratch. She knew he was keeping something from her. She could sense it. Was it something about Will or something about Scratchor both? Determined to find out, she turned towards the crows nest, never taking her eye off it, and began to climb. Up, up, up she climbed until she popped over the side of the thing. "Jack Sparrow, you tell me everything right now!"

  
Jack barely flinched. His eyes still on the horizon, he allowed himself a small smile. "and really bad eggs"

Elizabeth pulled herself the rest of the way into the crow's nest and moved to stand in front of him blocking his view of the sea. 

  
Jack reluctantly met her eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you'd remember that it's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. A small distinction, I know, but it's important to me."

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, tell me everything! Now!"

"I'm flattered that you'd think I know everything, but I don't, so I can't tell you, can I?" He smiled then, flashing his teeth and tossing his head.

"You know what I mean!"

"And how would I know that without you tellin' me?"

"You're impossible!"

"AhhI wondered when you'd call me that!" He sighed. "Miss Swann, ElizabethI have told you all I intend. When we reach Scratch, you will stay aboard the Pearl. I'm taking Killian on myself."

"Oh, no! I waited aboard the Pearl when you took on supplies! I will not wait here when Will needs me."

Jack had turned his back on her, but twirled around now, both hands out, palms towards the sky, elbows at his sides. "Do you want to be used against him?" 

"What?"

"Youused against him? Killian grabs you, gets Will to do whatever he wants by threatening you. Is that what you want?"

Elizabeth looked unsure then. "No, of course not."

"Of course not! Then you stay here!"

"What is it you aren't telling me?"

"A lot, my dear. A whole hell of a lot." He turned his eyes back to the horizon, ignoring Elizabeth until she was forced to climb back down to the deck.

  
To her surprise, Anamaria was waiting for her. "You got nothing from him, did you?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Nothing." She looked at the woman pirate beseechingly. "What do you know about it?"

Anamaria took a step backwards. "He never said a word about Will to me. If he found out anything at port, I don't know anything about it."

"Then about the Island? It's an odd name for an island."

"How so?" Anamaria wasn't sure what she meant.

"Scratch? I mean Isle de Muerta I understood. I've heard of Cutthroat Island, Devil's Island"

Anamaria laughed. "And you think Scratch is odd? Honey, it's not Scratch like a cut or scratch like you would an itch, it's Scratch as in Old Scratch. As in Beelzebub. The Island is called 'Devil'.

Elizabeth swallowed. "Oh."

"I can tell you it's a bad place to go. I can tell you strange things go on there, but I can't tell you what since I've never been there." She looked Elizabeth in the eye. "Though I know someone who has."

  
"Who?"

Anamaria looked up at the crow's nest. "The Captain."

Elizabeth's gaze followed the pirate's to find Jack still staring at the horizon and talking to himself.

To Be Continued

Padfoot4ever: Do you wait for these updates, because you're usually one of the first to review each new post! Thanks so much! It means so much to me!

Jackfan2: I'm glad you liked the dialogue! There's a lot yet left unsaid for Jackbut I'm trying to work it all in! There may be more of Anamaria, too!

Swashbuckler: I'm flattered! Really! I wish Disney would hurry up with the sequel myself, but I don't think they're going to be filming that for awhile. Johnny Depp is being considered for the remake of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and I think Orlando Bloom is still filming Troy! (Or have they finished that?)

Kandra: I intrigue you? I'm thrilled! Don't worry! I'll continue. I'm enjoying this too much!

Andi Horton: Yeah, I don't understand why there aren't more reviews, either! LOL! I hope you like this chapter!


	5. part 5

****

Author's Note: Extra Special Thanks to ErinRua for pointing out a technical problem. (Answer in full at end of chapter with other review responses, but please noteminor change to part 4 regarding the keelhauling.)

Thanks for all the reviews! They're really keeping me going! I haven't gotten many for this story, but just when I start to think no one likes it I get an amazing one! Thank you all. (Replies to reviews at end of chapter!)

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 5 by Ecri

Will Turner slowly became aware of the fact that there was no wind. He furrowed his brow, wondering what had happened to the wind. Could the air be that still? Something wet hit his lips, and his tongue flicked outwards searching for it. A damp cloth seemed to be moving around his face. Desperately, he forced uncooperative eyes open. "Baxter?" he croaked, his voice weak and cracking.

"Yeah. Drink this." The man held a cup of water out to him, helping him sit slightly so he could drink.

He drank the cup empty, and savored the feeling of the liquid running down his throat. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm only doing as I've been ordered."

"Whywhy would he" Will's voice quit on him, as he began to cough. After several minutes he was finally under control Baxter answered him.

"Why would he want you tended after what he done?"

Will nodded.

"Ya got me, kid, but he wants you able to walk when we reach Scratch."

Will digested this information as he tried to move. His muscles refused to obey him, and the pain caused by the slightest movement astonished him. "When do we get there?"

"In 10 hours."

Will almost laughed. "I can't imagine I'll be able to walk by then."

Baxter looked him over. "Right. Then you'll have to crawl."

"Right." Will closed his eyes again, and fell almost immediately to sleep.

**

Killian smiled as the sun began to rise. The pinks, reds, yellows, and oranges were brilliant, but what he liked most was the sight of Scratch. They had made it. Turner was alive, albeit barely. The drug he'd slipped the boy over the months had kept him depressed and lethargic, but now, he was downright docile.

He watched his men as he gave the orders to set out to the small island. Only himself, Turner, and four other men would go, and those four would stay on the beach. Only he and Turner would make the trek to the cave. He put his hand to the wooden box, feeling its impatience to be return from whence it came. 

He marched towards the boat he would take with Turner and the other four. Once he was there, Will Turner was brought to him. The boy shuffled painfully, but he was upright. Killian nodded to Baxter, and noted with amusement that the man sighed with relief.

Turner, on the other hand, was a long way from relief. Hunched and cradling his left arm to his chest, he shuffled more than walked as though every movement caused him pain. Killian took the boy's chin and turned his face up to inspect his eyes. Turner barely registered the motion or his presence. The boy's eyes were widely dilated, and Killian was pleased with himself for giving him such a large dose of the drug.

Roughly, he tossed the boy at the boat, laughing when he stumbled.

When they reached the Island, Killian gave the men orders to stay put, then, taking Will Turner by the arm, began to lead him towards the center of the island. Will stumbled, fell, righted himself, cried out in pain, but Killian never slowed his pace. Barefoot and barely dressed, Will's injuries mounted as they walked, or in Will's case, mostly crawled, but Killian pressed on.

They hadn't much time, for the Wooden Box in Killian's pocket had begun to pulse rapidly. By nightfall, Turner would be dead.

**

Jack saw the Marauder, the Serpent, and the Revenge and knew they had to be careful. Diverting course could bring them up unseen, but it would add hourshours Will might not have to spare. Still, they could not hope to face all three ships. It had to be done.

"Prepare the lifeboats, and head to starboard." He called to Gibbs, ignoring Elizabeth's frustration as well as her frustrating cries.

" 'Ang on, Will, my lad. Jack's 'ere."

Jack watched Scratch draw closer and closer, but, though his eyes stared at the Island. They saw another time.

****

Flashback:

Jack Sparrow clung to the debris of the ship he'd thought of as safe before the storm had hit. He'd seen storms before, of course he had, but this one had made him wonder if ever he had. The swells had to have been 80 or 90 feet high. The rain fell in sheets so, at any given moment, it was difficult to say if it was rainwater or seawater coming down on you. 

He'd been afraid, but when his captain had told him to stay below deck, it had stung his pride. He wasn't a child! He was the cabin boy! Still orders were orders, so he'd stayed below deck. When the ship started taking on water, and what crew was with him had started bailing it out, he'd volunteered to take the information to the captain. The ranking crewman had been reluctant, but had let him go.

It was on his way up the stairs that the ship had finally given under the beating it was taking. Wind and wave, the ship had taken all it could take, and when she gave, she all but splintered. Jack had felt as though the very world no longer existed. One minute he was walking up solid stairs, and the next he seemed to be flying through the air. The wind blew the rain straight into his face, making it difficult to breathe, and, as he struggled for breath, he plunged into the depths of the sea. Unable to prevent it, he took in a lung full of water and surfaced choking. 

He wasn't able to see much, but as he tried to swim, or at least tread water, his right hand touched something solid. Clutching at it, he realized, whatever it had once been, it was now his life raft. He clung to it desperately, eyes clenched shut, and for a while, he Neptune's plaything.

****

End Flashback:

Jack blinked away the memories wishing they wouldn't come. He'd expected it of course, from the minute he'd realized which island Elizabeth had pointed to on his maps. "Scratch. Why did it have to be Scratch?"

**

Will couldn't make his mind focus on what he was doing. He knew only to move forward, the iron grip on his arm dragging him in one direction or the other. He didn't know what he was doing or where he was going. He barely knew his own name, though the name Elizabeth reverberated through his mind again and again. Stumbling again, he felt pain shoot through his knee where he hit a rock, followed by painful lashing across his back. He knew from experience the only way to stop it was to get up and walk, but he could not force himself upright. All he could manage was a slow, painful crawl. He knew this would be tolerated for only a short time before he was picked up bodily and set upon his feet to walk on until he fell again. He wondered what would happen if he couldn't rise the next time.

Killian watched Will's struggle, secretly thrilled that Bootstrap's son would be the one to gain him his respite. A poetic justice in it somehow, as that Pirate had been the only one of his victims ever to escape him. Killian remembered it clearly and wondered if the boy had been born at the time. He was a poor judge of age, and the years seemed to race by him yet limp along quite slowly at the same time. He assumed it was a side effect. It didn't matter to him, so long as the years did pass, and he remained able to mark their passing. It certainly beat the alternative.

**

Jack finally put to shore bringing half his crew. He knew Killian would bring only a token number believing he was safe and no one would follow him there. Secretly, he couldn't wait to see the look on Killian's face when he showed up once again to save a Turner who had saved Jack's own life. He smiled in anticipation. Poetic justice in that.

Justice. Poetic wasn't the only sort of justice he was going after. Killian was the worst kind of Pirate. He was all but demon, and had lived long enough to prove it. He'd given pirates a bad name, after all. Killian was the type of pirate who would turn Port Royal's Commodore Norrington into chum.

And he'd enjoy doing it.

Being here again, on Scratch brought it all back to him.

****

Flashback:

Ten-years-old, and shipwrecked, Jack Sparrow thought. He hadn't a clue if anyone from the Caribbean Treasure had made it off the ship, but even if they had, the chances they'd all end up on the same island had to be poor.

He walked along the beach wondering what should be his first task. _Basics,_ he thought. Food, shelter, fresh water. With not a thought to how tired he was, Jack trudged inland looking for the basics. The further he got from the beach, the slower he walked. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was somethinghere.

After several hours walking in the hot sun, he finally found a pool of water near a small cave. Thirst won out over caution, and he threw himself down by the pool's edge and drank all he could. 

Gasping for air, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the trees overhead. In a few moments, he was asleep.

****

End Flashback

Jack remembered that dream. It still came to him from time to time. Images of demons and devilshe still wasn't sure if the water had been tainted, or if it had been somethingother.

Looking back to his men, he waved them forward, feigning a confidence and a bravado he didn't feel. "Come on!" he called, eyeing the small rowboat they had found on the beach. "They're already here."

**

Killian approached the altar he had discovered, quite by accident all those years ago. It had worked to his advantage. He had lived so long now he could scarcely believe it. His education had been the key. If he had been unable to read, as so many pirates were, he would have passed by this room and ignored it for it contained no gold. Curiosity had claimed him that day, however, and he'd wandered inside finding the greatest possible treasure. Sure, he had almost lost the prize that year Jack Sparrow had followed Bootstrap Bill in an attempt to rescue him. A successful attempt to be sure. Killian didn't usually take men as old as Bill Turner, but he had thought it would be enough for a short respite. When Jack had rescued Bootstrap, Killian had had to resort to some substitutions. 

He shuddered at the thought. The old man, a cook on the Serpent, had bought him only a few months.

He stared down at Will Turner. Bootstrap's son was barely a man. Plenty of good years left in him! This would buy him a good bit of time. Settling a compliant and injured Will onto the stone altar, Killian prepared the things for the ritual. The wooden box, the knives, the torches, everything had to be placed just so. The last thing he did was remove the blanket covering the stone carving. Nearly as tall as two men, it leered down towards the altar, great massive stone arms reaching towards the intended victim. 

Clamping several manacles onto Will's arms and wrists, he laughed as he sharpened his knife.

**

Jack moved swiftly through the jungle towards the center of the island hacking through the thick underbrush with a machete. His men followed, mostly because he'd promised them there'd be treasure and with any luck, there would be. Not that he put a lot of stock in his own luck, for it certainly seemed to leave him high and dry often enough. He pushed the thought aside. He had plans to make.

He hoped to take Killian's life, such as it was, and afterwards, he wasn't sure what they would do. By the code, as defeating captain, he'd be entitled to plunder Killian's ship. Since Killian had three, technically, they'd be Jack's. He just wasn't sure how he'd handle that. He didn't really relish the idea of having a small fleet. Too much responsibility. On the other hand, he could get used to it. Commodore Jack Sparrow had a nice ring to itif ever people would remembered to use his title.

Something stopped him in his tracks, and he realized the jungle here looked very familiar. 

****

Flashback

Jack had wandered all over the island looking for food. He'd been well into his third day when he heard the noises. A voicechanting. It was an odd language, but it sounded worth a look. The boy decided to creep closer and see what he could learn. If it looked safeeven if it didn't look safe. He was hungry, and scared, though he'd never admit to the latter. The island crawled with dark shadows, and each night he spent here had been full of running and hiding and cowering. 

Last night, he had been sure he'd seen a devil of some sort. Horns, a red face, and a mouth full of long, sharp teeth. The thing had chased him, but he'd gotten away. 

Now, creeping towards the caves from which emanated the strange chanting, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Ignoring it as best he could since this was the first sign he'd seen in three days that he wasn't alone, Jack followed where the chanting led.

Finally, rounding a corner, he smiled at the thought that he'd finally found someone. Peeking inside the small cavern, he saw a man, his back to Jack, hands raised. The man was chanting, over another man who was tied to a stone table. As Jack watched, the standing man plunged a knife into the one at the altar. Horrified, Jack wanted to look away, to run, but he couldn't. 

Instead, he watched as a strange wooden box at the wounded man's head pulsed. In the following moments, a strange light seemed to reach out towards the wounded man, and, through the wound, entered the man's body. Another moment was all it took. As the pulsing light withdrew from the body all that it left behind was a shriveled husk that held its shape just long enough for the light to return to the box. He heard a voice thenthe chanting man, only now he spoke in English. 

"And so it is done." 

The box pulsed again, and another voice seemed to come from inside the light. "And so I will keep you alivethis time for another twenty-five years." Then the box slid shut of its own accord, and the man, still standing with his back to Jack turned around.

And Jack beheld the very devil that had chased him across the island the night before.

****

End Flashback

Jack knew they must be getting closer to the altar. He gestured for his men to stop and they almost managed to avoid running into him.

Creeping stealthily forward with Gibbs close by, he peered through the bushes to see a large cave ahead. Nodding to himself, he turned back to his men. "This is it. I'm going to go in with at least ten of you. The rest guard the cave entrance and don't let Killian out or anyone else in." He scanned the group of men and picked the 10 biggest, best fighters. "Come on."

They followed him towards the cave and with a last fleeting, pleading look to the heavens, he crept inside. 

**

Elizabeth stared at the island where Jack and half his crew had put to shore. She had to believe that he would find Will. She just wished she knew what was going on. Jack was hiding something from her, that much was certain. She knew Anamaria didn't know what it was, but perhapsOh, she thought, what was she doing! "I can't just sit here and wait like alike a woman!" She glanced about the deck looking for Anamaria. Surely the only other woman aboard would...

The thought trailed as she heard some commotion behind her. Turning, she saw Anamaria in consultation with a man whose name she did not know. She walked towards them to ask what was wrong, but the words did not come. She saw it for herself.

  
The Revenge was heading right for them. 

**

Killian had set the stage so to speak and stared at the shackled, weak, and trembling form of Will Turner remembering when he'd held Bootstrap Bill in this very place. Well, not in this very place. That damnable Jack Sparrow had arrived just before Killian had come ashore and somehow gotten the drop on him. Sparrow had cost him dearly. The ritual worked best with young victims, though not too young. A child would have not enough energy to stave off Killian's death. Bootstrap had been a bit older than Killian preferred, but his son was the perfect age! Killian could almost feel the rush of energy already!

The Wooden Box he placed at Will's head and opened it. The pulsing was rapid and anticipatory. Killian placed the candles, lit them, and prepared himself carefully, changing his clothes into the ceremonial robes he always wore here.

  
Finally ready, he intoned the strange ancient words he'd learned. The Wooden Box pulsed more rapidly with each word. Each time the brightness increased, Will Turner would moan and try to move, but the drugs Killian had forced on him left him too weak to do more than shift his head, and soon the strength to do even that was gone.

Killian's eyes went momentarily wide, but then he clenched thenm tightly closed as a sheen of sweat broke out on his feverish brow. He raised his blade high above his head and brought it down in a hard, clean stroke

only to hear a metallic clang as it hit metal instead of the comforting wet smack it should have made.

Opening his eyes in confusion, Killian beheld a sight he never thought to see.

"Hey, Mate! Remember me?" Jack cooed, winking one kohl rimmed eye. "Captain Jack Sparrow!" He gestured to Will. "You can't 'ave 'im." With that, Jack pulled back his sword and brought it down hard on the manacles that held Will in place. They fell away from Will's body, but Will himself didn't move.

Jack hadn't even looked at what he was doing, his eyes riveted to Killian's and full of hatred. "You need to learn mate, that eventually, you have to pay the piper!" Jack turned then and in an almost elegant spin moved around the stone altar his friend lay upon and engaged Killian in swordplay.

To Be Continued

Review Responses:

Padfoot4ever: Well, that clears that up! LOL! Really, my sincere thanks! I am more flattered than I can say, and I am thrilled that you enjoy what I've written.

Jackfan2: *grin* Thanks! (You'd let me know if Jack was out of character, right?)

Kandra: Really insightful! Or maybe I'm just transparent! You hit really close to the mark, only off by some details. For those details, you'll have to keep coming back for the next chapter! Hee! I like your description of Jack, that he thinks like he walks! I think that's what makes him such a fun character!

Sethoz: Thanks! I hope this was quick enough!

  
Daine: I was thrilled to get your review because you are the first person to mention the Billy Joel reference! I was beginning to think no one caught it or no one listens to Billy! (I'm a huge BJ fan! I was sure everyone was going to call me on that or tell me it was silly or something!) You're right, someone should do a songfic!

Rachel the Insane: Well, loss for words or not, that was a wonderful and flattering review! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Liquidiamond: Thanks! Soon enough for you?

Luke Skywalker: Thanks! (BTW, Love your name!)

Tithen Min: Hi and thanks! You really know how to flatter a girl! In answer to your question, yeah, there's stuff I can't do. I tried my hand at Stargate fanfic once, but I couldn't quite get it. The stuff that I do postthose are my deepest obsessions! Thanks for the review!

ErinRua: I am really grateful that you pointed that out. I should have used a reference book or the internet, but I was in a hurry and just looked up keelhaul in the dictionary. It was much less detailed than your definition. I've altered the time frame to a much more vague reference to how long he was under there, but if you think it's still unrealistic, let me know and I will alter the punishment. Thanks so much for letting me know about that. As for the rest of your reviewyou had me blushing. Thanks! 

  
FalconStorm: Thank you for reviewing. I hope none of this is disappointing.


	6. part 6

****

Thanks for all the reviews! They're really keeping me going! (Replies to reviews at end of chapter!) This chapter got quite a large number of them. I really do appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 6 by Ecri

The Revenge aimed its cannon at the Pearl, but instead of firing right away, the Captain called for surrender.

Anamaria scowled at the words. "Surrender?" She muttered. "Not bloody likely!" In reply to the man, she raised her cutlass, shouting orders to the crew. "Fire the cannons!"

Pirates from the Revenge began to board the Pearl, and the peculiar music of clashing swords soon filled the air.

Elizabeth could think of little besides Will, and, in her mind, these pirates stood in the way of her going to be by his side. Indeed, had they not been attacked, she would be prowling the beaches of Scratch right now.

Pulling a sword from Jack's office, she called on the skills Will had tried to pass on to her. Her months caged aboard the Marauder had seen what little she had learned deteriorate. Still, as she fought, it began to come back to her. The Pirates from the Marauder were so surprised to see a woman wielding a blade, let alone two side by side, as she stood by Anamaria, that it gave her a slight advantage. 

Blow for blow and toe to toe, she fought against these men who had taken her life and turned it upside down. These men had destroyed her life! Her home! She didn't hold back, but took out her frustrations on any who dared approach her.

The sword she used, however, wasn't like the one Will had made for her. It was heavy and the shock that traveled down her arms with the force of each blow made her dizzy. Determination and anger did what skill could not and Elizabeth managed to defeat more than one of them. Whirling again to face another opponent, she barely stayed her blade when she realized it was Anamaria. 

"Easy! Come on! We're going to blow the Revenge out of the water."

"How are we going to do that?" Elizabeth wondered if Anamaria had any ideas or if she'd been struck in the head one too many times. Anamaria's only reply was to grab her by the arm and drag her below decks.

**

Jack's men rushed into the hidden chamber to find Jack and Killian locked in battle. Gibbs moved swiftly to Will's side and eased the boy off the altar. Hiding him on the floor for now, Gibbs turned to the man with him. "Have the men surround Killian. The Captain doesn't want him to get away this time."

Killian ignored their arrival if he was even aware of it as he circled the irate pirate. "What did you do, wait here for me? Follow this boy around thinking to protect him?"

"Nah, no such planning involved. This was just dumb luck, Savvy? Coincidence. Just fate putting me in your way yet again!" He caught Killian's blade on his own sword and drew himself closer to the man. "Ya gotta love that! It just proves that somewhere out there there's an omnipotent creator with a damn good sense of humor!" He smiled, winked, and fought for all he was worth.

Killian didn't seem at all as perturbed as Jack would have expected. Scanning as much of the room with one eye as he could manage, while keeping the other on Killian, Jack thought frantically for a way to end the duel. 

The two pirates traded blows, neither gaining any significant advantage. Jack knew Killian was better than he was, but he also knew what Will's fate would be had he not followed through on this rescue. He hadn't wanted to come here, to face this man again after what he'd seen so long ago, but he had known all along that he couldn't leave Will to this fate, either, no matter what protestations he had made to Elizabeth to the contrary. 

  
Fate put him in Killian's way again, so fate had to have some reason. _If only fate would whisper in my ear and tell me how to kill this beast,_ he thought as he parried another blow.

The macabre dance of two skilled swordsmen, each seeking that one moment when his opponent would falter, continued through the cave. Jack would no sooner gain an advantage, pushing Killian back, then Killian would somehow turn the advantage and drive Jack into a flurry of defensive moves.

Jack knew this had to end soon, for when he'd come into the cavern, he'd thought for a moment that he was too late and Will was already dead. It had taken a few moments for him to realize this was not the case.

Sudden rage at what Killian had managed to do to Will, and at what he had almost managed to do–might still manage to do if Jack couldn't win this battle–lent a ferocity to his blows he'd rarely achieved. 

Regardless of the emotions behind his blows, Killian was still better with a blade. Jack blocked and parried a few more times, moving backwards towards the now empty altar when Killian, to Jack's astonishment, disarmed him. 

Jack stared at his now empty hand and the blade now held at his throat with a look of complete confusion on his face. "How interesting! That wasn't supposed to happen." Jack stared at Killian's blade, uncomfortably close to his throat. "How about you give me my sword back and show me how you did that?"

Killian laughed a cruel laugh. "I don't think so."

"No? Well, just an idea." He swayed then almost drunkenly and his arms moved in that odd way they had as though a snake was wrapped around him and he had lost the head. 

Killian stepped forward then until he stood looming over Jack. "I'm going to kill your friend and make you watch. Then, I'll take you as well, as I should have done when you were a boy!"

"I can't let you do that." Jack declared matter-of-factly. 

"And what do you propose to do about it? You are unarmed."

"But not unhanded." In an instant, Jack's hand reached for the Wooden Box and tossed it at Killian, who dropped his sword and reached for the Box as though the most precious thing in the world was inside. "No!" He watched with horror as it tumbled through the air and he raced to catch it. It landed upside down, still open, in his outstretched hands.

The pulsing light spilled forward then, engulfing first Killian's hands and then his arms then growing to cover him from head to toe. It grew brighter and brighter until it suddenly winked out taking Killian with it. The now empty box clattered to the floor and shattered.

Jack stared at the spot where it had been. "How interesting." His voice was a whisper.

Gibbs was hiding behind the altar, but seeing that the supernatural display appeared to be over, called to his captain. "Captain! I've got 'im."

"Yes, Gibbs, I assumed that when I noticed he wasn't up" he gestured vaguely at the altar. "you know, on that stone slab." Jack moved to Will's side, and for a moment, the eccentric, mad pirate captain melted away revealing a desperate, compassionate man. "Oh, William, what did he do to you?" 

Jack picked up Will, who moaned slightly, but still had no strength to speak of. "It's all right Will Turner. I'm taking you to your bonnie lass."

**

Elizabeth and Anamaria aimed every cannon they could at the Revenge. 

"Nowwhen I give the word, fire them all at once!" Anamaria was moving from one to the other checking their fuses and being sure they were properly loaded. She grabbed a large box she could barely lift and hoisted it up into a contraption she'd cobbled together from bits and pieces lying around while Elizabeth had been busy with the cannons. 

Drawing back a rope pulled a few pieces into place, and Elizabeth realized what it was. "That's a catapult!"

"Aye!" Anamaria smiled. "That it is! I knew a man once taught me how to see around corners, he called it. He could fix anything." She looked at Elizabeth. "You ready?"

Elizabeth actually smiled. "Aye!" She said enjoying the piratical sense of the moment despite herself.

"Now!" Amamaria called as she shot the large box out the porthole with the catapult. A moment later, the cannon fire began. Anamaria and Elizabeth stared at the Revenge watching their handiwork and hoping it would be enough.

A moment later, the box of gunpowder Anamaria had launched was hit by a cannonball. The resulting explosion lit the night sky as the Revenge shattered.

**

Walking through the jungle took longer than Jack wanted it to take, but they had to be sure to avoid the other three vessels. He would have been a bit more optimistic of the outcome if Will had shown some signs of life, but the boy hadn't. Twice, Jack had stopped to see if he was breathing, since he did so only shallowly and it was difficult to tell.

He was glad Killian was gone, and certainly wouldn't shed a tear over it. Killian had haunted his dreams all his life. 

****

Flashback

After that day he'd seen the man with the devil mask kill some poor pirate, Killian had chased him again. Catching him, he'd told the boy he would take him off Scratch only if he was a good Cabin Boy. He didn't want to go with Killian, but there was no way he could survive alone on Scratch. There was no food to speak of and too many shadows.

  
Jack had agreed. Life as Killian's cabin boy hadn't been easy. The man was cruel at the best of times, and anytime Jack had not behaved to the Commodore's liking, he'd threaten to take the boy back to Scratch and leave him there for the demons to devour.

It hadn't been a good life.

Until one day a man named Bootstrap Bill had joined Killian's crew. It was Bootstrap then, from whom Jack had learned much of the code. Bootstrap wasn't much older than the fifteen year old Jack– maybe eight years, maybe ten–but he had been a pirate for years, and he told a good story.   
  
It was ten years after they'd met that Jack had realized Killian was heading back to Scratch.

****

End Flashback

Jack intended to sneak back to the Pearl and sail away leaving Killian's ships behind. The reality, he realized, wasn't going to be that easy.

When they reached the Pearl's berth, it was under attack by Killian's fleet. The Pearl was holding its own, but three to one meant it had to be fast or it would be surrounded. Jack called to Gibbs. "Are our launches where we left 'em?"

"Aye."

"Good." He sounded much too cheerful to Gibbs. "Come on, men, to the boats!" He walked swiftly down the beach, but stopped when he realized they hadn't followed. Turning back to them, he made a gesture that started out as a typical follow me gesture but turned into something odd and hard to describe. "Come on, men, to the boats!" He repeated the words hoping perhaps they hadn't understood him.

When that didn't work, he glared at them. "Is this a mutiny? I don't care for mutineers! I've had a bad experience with them."

One of the men stepped forward. "We aren't sure we can get out of this, Captain."

"No, and you'll never find out from there, come on!" Jack gestured for the men to follow him, and was stunned when they did not.

"We'd rather wait 'til you've secured the ship and then join you." Another one of the men said.

"Cowards! By the code, if you stay here, I sail on without you." Jack stared at them, hands on hips.

"No, captain, you won't sail on without us."

"I won't?"

"No."

Jack laughed. "Why not?"

The man smiled and pointed to the man next to him who was taking his turn carrying Will. "Because we 'ave 'im! You wouldn't leave 'im behind after coming all this way just to save 'is life."

Jack's mind seemed a moment or two behind events, but once he'd pieced together what was going on, he could think of only one thing to say. "Bastard."

  
The man only smiled.

Jack turned to Gibbs and shook his head. "Good choice of crew there, mate." He turned to the men. "Who's on his side?"

Five men stayed with the mutineer, and the other four moved to the Captain's side. Jack nodded. Taking a step towards the mutineer, he stared stonily at the man. "I'm going to get my ship back." He gestured to Will. "If he's the slightest bit hurt–well, more hurt than he already is–when I get back, I'll kill you, even if it isn't your fault, Savvy?"

The man nodded.

  
Jack turned as if to go, then turned back. "It's a stupid move, you know. You'd be better off coming with us. We might not be able to come back for you."

The man laughed. "For me, no, but for the kid" he slapped Will's face harder than necessary, causing Jack to take a step back towards the man. He was held back by Gibbs who gestured at one of the other Mutineers who casually held a knife to Will's throat. Jack pulled himself roughly free and turned towards the launches, his own, loyal men following.

**

Jack and his men made it to the Pearl with amazingly little trouble. Just as they climbed aboard, the Revenge exploded in a rain of cannon fire. 

Jack searched for Anamaria, finally finding her as she climbed up from below decks. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean? We're under attack!"

"I can see that, but why didn't you stay hidden?" He gestured to the boats that had obviously found them.

"We tried, but there's three of them!" Anamaria made a vague gesture. "One of them circled the island!" 

Jack nodded. "How did you blow the Revenge?"

Anamaria smiled. "I'll tell you when we have time for chatter!"

Jack considered this. "Fair enough. Where's Elizabeth?"

  
Anamaria was about to rely, when the woman appeared from nearby dressed in some of Anamaria's clothes, a gun in her hand and a sword at her hip. "Jack! You're back!" She turned to Anamaria. "The canon are loaded again, but we're having trouble keeping their people from jumping onto our boat."

"Ship." Jack corrected automatically. "Anamaria, hard to port. Keep them away until I've had a chance to do some figuring.'  
  
"Aye, Captain."

**

Jack would have spent more time planning if the crews of the Marauder and the Serpent had allowed it. As it was, his crew was nearly overwhelmed. Thinking fast, which sometimes got him into trouble, Jack waved his sword above his head in an attempt to look fierce. 

He'd succeeded more in looking insane, but as this did more to intimidate the enemy pirates than ferocity would, he didn't notice.

Taking advantage of their brief hesitation, Jack lunged for the Captain of the Serpent, brandishing his sword at the man. "We want adamn!" He'd lost the word again! He hated this! "We want to talk!"

"Parlay." Elizabeth whispered to him.

"Right!" He shouted, excited, as he turned to face her. Turning back to the captain, he gestured to Elizabeth. "What she said. We want to parlay." Jack explained. "We don't want any trouble, but by the code, you 'ave to surrender to me. I killed 'im." Jack held up the Commodore's hat that he'd swept up in their escape for just this reason. "Now, I won't take your ships from you, but I intend to get what I came for and leave."

The Captains of the Marauder and the Serpent spoke briefly. The Captain of the Marauder turned to Jack. "The code's really moreguidelines than rules."

Jack sighed. "So I've 'eard. But in the old days it's what we lived by."

The Captain nodded slowly. "Why should I take heed of some oldand surrender to you when I've got two ships to your one?"

As Jack considered the best way to handle that, a shot rang out, making Jack and his crew jump and try to find cover. Jack peeked from behind a barrel of water to see the Captain of the Serpent fall to the deck a bullet in his brain.

Surprised, he stared at the Captain of the Serpent who held a smoking gun in his hand.

"Good shot."

The other captain nodded. "We accept your terms. By the code."

"Not that I'm not grateful, but why?"

The captain shrugged. "If you can't follow the rules, you should get off the waters!"

Jack smiled, and placed the palms of his hands together bowing slightly in his usual expression of gratitude.

The other captain smiled. "What is it you came for?"

"The boy. Will Turner."

"Go and get him. We won't interfere."

Jack turned to do that, but then turned back to the Captain. "You know, there may be something I can do for you after all." A sly smile spread across his face.

  
**

Captain Jack Sparrow moved quickly through the jungle and towards Will Turner. Reaching the clearing where he'd left his traitorous men, his eyes came to rest on Will. Feverish and still, the boy hadn't moved.

Frowning, he turned his attention towards the lead mutineer. "We've got the Pearl and made an agreement with the other ships. It's safe for you cowards to come aboard.

The man nodded and Jack moved towards Will scooping him up, noting he didn't make a sound or move a muscle under his own power.

As soon as Jack and Gibbs moved far enough away from the five mutinous crewmen, Jack turned, but stepped slightly to the left, making room for the captains of the Serpent and the Revenge. "This is the part where you get what's coming to you." Jack smiled as the Captain of the Serpent stepped forward chains in hand. He led forty men, all armed and all weapons trained on the hapless former pirates. 

They struggled, but in the end had to give up. Gibbs approached Jack. "They're not gonna be slaves, are they?"

Jack, still smiling, started to walk back to their launches. "Nah, they're just gonna pretend for awhile then set 'em loose somewhere."

"How can you trust those men?"

"They honored the code."

Gibbs nodded, and his gaze fell on the boy in Jack's arms. "Is he going to recover?"

"Maybe. But even if he doesn't, he's about to find out what hell is like." Jack frowned at that, but there wasn't any way he could spare Turner this. The voyage back to Port Royal wouldn't be fun for the lad.

To Be Continued

Shaan Lien: Sorry about that. I don't usually write cliffhangers. Something just came over me. I hope this was fast enough. If not, the next part should be faster!

Kandra: Thanks! Yeah, I had Elizabeth set to go to Scratch, too, but I thought it would be more fun to have her and Anamaria in charge of the Pearl. I agree with your interpretation of Jack. There's more going on in that head than we know! BTW, your English seems impressive to me!  
  
EnglishMystic: Thanks! I live for reviews! (Hint!)

Jackfan2: Thanks for the applause! Your heart's racing? Cool! I am thrilled that you like this so much! I hope you like this chapter, too. 

  
Alexa: As you can see this isn't the last chapter. There is definitely at least one moremaybe twoand no, I wouldn't sink the Pearl! What would be the fun in that? LOL! Thanks for letting me know they all seem in character. That is always my biggest concern. I have read Tereza's LOTR fic_ Suffient for the Day_. I adore it!

FalconStorm: Actually, the devil reference was more from the point of view of a scared kid seeing a hideous mask than from any set religion. I'm glad the flashbacks work for you. I was worried about doing it because I wasn't sure if Jack as a kid would seemwell, like Jack!

  
Enchanted Dreamer: Thanks! Me too! I'm glad you like it!

Artic Strawbehry: Thanks! I hope you like this part as much!

Kels: Well-written is all I hope to achieve! I'm glad you like it!

Padfoot4ever: Thanks! Always glad to see your name!

Lord Lanceahlot: Wow! Best ever? Gee! That's wonderful! I'm really flattered! Actually, ErunRua set me straight on Keelhauling. I'm thrilled that you like this fic, and if you wish you could write a fic like thisgive it a shot!

LadySandrilene2: Creepy and good! Just what I was going for! I'm sorry about the cliffhanger! I promise not to be that bad again! (Sort of!) BTW, My point with making Jack so reluctant to go to Scratch was meant to show that this was something he was truly afraid of. I didn't intend for him to seem disloyal. I tried to clean that up a bit with a line in this chapter. I hope it helped keep things in character for you.

Chris: Thanks! Next chapter I'll try to deliver sooner!

Rachel the Insane: I'm glad you love it so much. There's still at least a little more to come!


	7. part 7

****

Author's Note: OkayI give in! I will try to draw out Will's recovery as long as possible. So many of you want this to continue, and I hate to disappoint. I do have a few ideas here, so I promise to keep writing this story as long as the muse is on my side.

Thanks for all the reviews! They're really keeping me going! (Replies to reviews at end of chapter!) I really do appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 7 by Ecri

Captain Jack Sparrow gazed upwards in supplication. The omnipotent creator with a damn good sense of humor he'd told Killian about had turned against him. Jack's haste to depart from Scratch had blinded him to Will's condition until they'd gotten aboard the rowboat. As Gibbs rowed, Jack turned his attention to Will. Seeing him now in the harsh light of a Caribbean sun, Will looked even worse than he had when Jack had first found him.

His skin was pale, and his body was still as stone. If Jack hadn't paid careful attention, he wouldn't have been able to tell the boy breathed at all. The deathlike stillness of the once energetic body sent a stab of fear through Jack's heart. He'd thought he was well passed feeling such things. He thought he'd buried such things on that island where Barbossa had marooned him.

Jack, tentatively, unsure of himself after having gone so long without any compassionate thoughts, reached out a hand and brushed a stray lock of hair from Will's forehead. The boy's head was hot–hotter than could be credited to the blazing Caribbean sun. "Now it begins." He whispered to himself knowing what was coming yet wishing he could somehow spare his friend.

  
"Friend." Jack barely said the word aloud. Even thinking it was somewhat of a surprise to him. He hadn't had a friend sincesince Bootstrap Bill. William Turner, Senior had been a good friend. No truer a friend could he have found, and he hadn't really been looking. He thought perhaps that he felt protective of Will when they'd first met because he'd heard about the boy from Bootstrap. 

Bootstrap Bill had known he'd had a child, and that it was a boy. He'd known where the boy lived, and what his mother went through to raise a child on her own. Though he'd never laid eyes on William Turner, Junior, he'd often spoke to Jack Sparrow of the child. Of what he might become, of hopes that he'd never learn his heritage as a pirate, or if he did, that at least he wouldn't hate his father for what he had been.

Bill, like Jack, was a Pirate by blood. The call of the sea was too great to ignore. Neither of them were evil men, nor were they malicious, or violent by nature. They took things that, perhaps, they had no legal right to take, but they never took what could not be replaced. They never took a life unless it was in self-defense. Not so Pirates like Barbossa. 

Barbossa hadn't been a friend. Jack had thought at the time that his crew was loyal, but only Bootstrap had earned the name friend. Only William Turner, Senior had been loyal.

When, Jack wondered, had he begun to consider the next generation of Turners his friend? He supposed it didn't matter, for he did. And he was fairly certain Will considered him a friend. You certainly didn't risk death by hanging to help a man escape the gallows for a mere acquaintance.

Jack's reverie was stopped short when a low moan came from the unconscious boy in his boat. Turning his full attention on Will, he saw that the stillness had broken. Will was now wracked by tremors. His entire body shook uncontrollably.

Jack had hoped to have him safely aboard the Pearl before this started, but they were only halfway there. He looked up to Gibbs. "Row faster, mate, if you value your shoes."

"My shoes?" Gibbs confusion was quickly remedied when Will moaned again, louder than the last time. He began to vomit, and Jack's speed in rolling him onto his side was all that saved him from choking to death.

Gibbs rowed faster, but he knew there was no saving his shoes.

**

Aboard ship, Elizabeth stared at the small boat heading their way from the beach. She'd wanted to go with Jack to the Island to get him, but Jack had locked her in his cabin with strict instructions not to let her out until he'd gone. Anamaria had done so, sympathizing with the girl.

Now the women stood side by side. "Did he tell you how Will was?"

Anamaria shook her head, though she knew Elizabeth's eyes were glued to the approaching craft and her love. "He didn't say a word. I expect he'll be all right, though. The Captain knows what he's doing."

Elizabeth finally tore her gaze away from the waters and looked at Anamaria. "You said he'd been here before. What do you know about that?"

"Precious little, I'm afraid." She considered what she did know. "He never talked about it much. Said he'd been here twice. Said it was a nightmare he'd rather not relive."

Elizabeth's eyes drifted back to the boat, which seemed no closer than before, though she knew that was just her anxiety. She had wondered why he'd been so reluctant to come here, and now that she knew he was running from some personal demon, she didn't know how to thank him.

Jack's appearance in her life had spoken of heroism. He'd dived into the water to save her when she'd fainted from a too-tight corset. More than fainting, she'd plummeted into the water from a height and had been unconscious, weighed down by her heavy gown.

Jack's heroic efforts were quickly forgotten by all present, and eventually, even by Elizabeth herself, who had seen him as a pirate when he'd used her to escape. Looking back, she realized he had done what he had to do to save his own life. 

  
Somewhere during their adventure, however, she'd come to depend on him. It was Will's loyalty to him, that had made her act, to choose in the end the pirate's side, rather than stand idly by and watch as they hung a man who should not be hung. Pirate or not, he was a good man, and deserved better than to be treated so poorly.

She watched Will and Jack's boat drawing closer to the Pearl, and she only hoped she would have the chance to tell each of them what they meant to her. 

**

Getting Will aboard the Pearl was no easy task. He couldn't climb aboard, even if he had been conscious. His tremors, the weakness from the lack of food and water all would have made it impossible to climb. It was probably a good thing he was blissfully unaware of it all as Jack tied a rope around him and had him hoisted aboard. 

  
Jack climbed up behind the rising body of the boy he now knew he considered a friend, so as to keep a hold on him in case the rope broke or the crew slipped. He didn't want Will's condition aggravated by a plunge into the sea from such a height. If he sank too quickly, they might be unable to bring him back to the surface.

Finally getting his unconscious form aboard, Jack started issuing orders. "Anamaria, get some water. We need to clean him up." He turned to Gibbs. "Take the Pearl out as fast as she's able. Head toward the nearest port where we can pick up some supplies. Especially medicinal ones."

Not trusting Will to anyone else's care after what had happened on the island, Jack picked up the shivering boy himself and carried him to his own cabin. He didn't have to check to see if Elizabeth followed.

**

Will had not woken since Jack had brought him on board several hours ago. Elizabeth tried to get water down his throat, but he wasn't able to keep much down.

As she stared, she wasn't aware of Jack's entry. 

"Any change?" Jack asked.

"No." She replied. "What did Killian do to him?"

Jack sighed. "He did what he tried to do to Bootstrap Bill. He found this altarsome sort of ancient religionon the island. Somehow he figured out a few things, and discovered a wooden boxI don't know the details, but I do know that he has to perform this ritual every so often. By doing it just right, he extends his life."

Elizabeth looked puzzled. "The Fountain of Youth."

"You could say that. Though in this case it wasn't youth he was after but avoidance of death. He was a dead man. He'd contracted some fatal illness on some island somewhere, and if he hadn't found this thing, he'd have died about 200 years' ago."

"Two hundred?"

Jack smiled at the incredulity in her voice. "Killian had Bootstrap in tow heading for that altar a long time ago."

"There's something you're not telling." Elizabeth narrowed her eyes to consider the Captain who had now twice saved Will and herself from death.

Jack nodded slowly, turning away. "That there is, Liz. That there is."

Elizabeth waited hoping he would open up to her, but a low moan interrupted any answers Jack might have offered. Both Elizabeth and Jack rushed to Will's side just as he moaned again. His eyes fluttered. Elizabeth called to him, and finally his eyes opened.

He took a breath to speak, but began to cough, his lips and throat dry and useless. Jack grabbed a cup of water and passed it to Elizabeth who eased Will's head up and helped him to drink.

  
Easing him back onto the bed, Elizabeth noticed he'd clenched his eyes shut. "Will? Are you in pain?"

Will ignored the question. "Elizabeth? Is it really you?" His voice was softer than a whisper. 

Elizabeth smiled, though tears spilled down her cheeks. "It's me, my love. Jack saved me. Then he saved you. We're heading back to Port Royal."

Will turned to Jack. "Thank you."

Jack smiled. "You're welcome, mate."

Will shivered then as a chill took him. Jack stood and opened a trunk. Rummaging inside for a moment, he seemed to find what he'd been looking for. Crossing to Will's bedside, he gave the shivering blacksmith a spare blanket. "I have to warn you, Will, this isn't going to be fun. You're ill, and it's going to take some time until you're yourself again."

"As long as Elizabeth is by my side, I will be fine."

Jack rolled his eyes, knowing he boy wasn't just saying that. He believed it. And so, apparently did Elizabeth. 

He watched as the girl placed a cool damp cloth on Will's head. 

"I'm not going anywhere." She whispered as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"I'd believe all of that better if I thought either of you had half a clue what you're in for." He looked from one to the other. "But you don't."

**

That evening, Jack stared out to the horizon as he steered the Black Pearl. The weather was favorable, winds were up, and the temperature had mercifully dropped. Images of his visits to Scratch, three visits now, appeared in his mind's eye. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

He had doubted for awhile–when he'd first seen Killian in the temple–that he would be able to save Will. Thinking the most he could do was see that Will died at the hand of a friend rather than at the whim of some monster, Jack had only seen potential for ending it favorably when Killian had disarmed him. Odd that the misfortune of being so handily disarmed had brought him to toss that horrid box at the man. He'd expected it would do something to Killian, but he still wasn't quite certain what it had done.

Jack didn't grieve for Killian, however. That was impossible. Killian had sought to use up what years Will had left to stave off his own death, as he had tried to do to Bootstrap.

Memories of that second visit to Scratch had been inevitable. Jack had known that from the beginning. They had come upon him in small flashes at first, but seeing Will strapped to that altar, his mind had inserted Bootstrap upon the same. He couldn't understand that really, since Bootstrap hadn't made it as far as the altar. Jack had gotten to Killian early enough to save Bootstrap from that, at least.

****

Flashback:

Killian rowed to shore with a very drugged Bootstrap Bill. He'd left everyone else on board the Marauder, never realizing that one of his crew had stolen a life raft and rowed to Scratch slightly ahead of him.

It wasn't until he was on the beach struggling to pull Bill from the boat that Jack Sparrow stepped forward. "You're gonna have to let him go."

Killian turned slowly towards the boy. "Jack. I should have guessed. I thought you'd forgotten."

"Forgotten what? What happened here twenty-five years ago?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Not likely. Here's the deal. I'm taking Bootstrap."

"And"

"And what?"

"What do I get in this deal?"

"You get to not feel hot lead in your brain." He waved the gun in a vague arc. "Don't know it it'll kill you, but I bet it'll slow you down."

"Jack, be reasonable"

  
"Never have been before. Why start now?"

Killian's face twisted in rage. "How dare you?"

"It's not all that hard." It was then that Jack lost his patience and shot Killian. The Commodore screamed an inhuman scream, as Jack lunged for Bootstrap who was still half inside the small boat. Pulling him the rest of the way in, Jack pushed the boat into the sea and began to row. Killian recovered himself somewhat, and raced towards Jack and his boat, but Jack had been prepared. He had one other gun, and shot the man between his eyes. He watched Killian fall and rowed for all he was worth.

****

End Flashback

Jack rubbed his eyes as his tired brain threw such images at him. He had saved Bootstrap Bill from facing the altar. That was true enough. 

"If I'd have been smarter, or braver, Bill, maybe you wouldn't have had to face the withdrawal." Jack whispered to himself.

Humming Elizabeth's egg song, he couldn't help but wish he were as free as he'd once been behind the wheel of the Pearl. This business with Killian had robbed him of that. And the truth was, it wasn't nearly over.

To Be Continued

Replies to Reviews:

Jackfan2: I've got several more chapters in mind now, and will keep going as long as the muse (and the reviews!) continue! I hope you like this chapter!

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EnglishMystic: thanks!

Jasini: Thanks!

  
Rat: I'm flattered you like my writing style. I've got some good Jack bits planned for the next chapter.

Akexa: I had originally thought I'd do a long recovery for Will, but assumed no one would be interested. Seeing that you are inspired my muse to badger me into incorporating some of those original ideasand a few surprises as well.

  
Rachel the Insane: Well, he's not yetbut that isn't to say he won't be!

Shadow Fox: I'm glad you like the story. I may still have Elizabeth do some butt kicking. I just don't know who's butt, yet!

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Ice Flame 17: I hear you. Yes, I'll keep the story going until the muse says otherwise. 


	8. part 8

****

Thanks for all the reviews! There isn't enough space for me to adequately tell you all how much I get from reading your comments. (Replies to reviews at end of chapter.)

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 8 by Ecri

Will could barely move. Any time he did, he would feel a strange lightheadedness often followed by a fierce wave of nausea. His only consolation was that Elizabeth was here, safe, aboard the Pearl. It had been his only thought for so long–to save Elizabeth no matter where she had been taken.

  
When Killian had told him that Elizabeth would likely be sold in the Orient, it had been all he could do to hold on to hope. His determination to save her had only increased as he'd contemplated what trials awaited her there.

He recalled Killian's eyes, hard and cold, as the pirate had told him that. He recalled the man's enjoyment of the idea that Will would trade his life for her and how much laughter it had caused the man. At the time, Will didn't understand what the Commodore had found amusing about his suggestion, but now, Will knew. It had been amusing because Killian had already decided that Will would be the one to sacrifice his own life that the Commodore might live. Will's offer of his life in trade for Elizabeth's was meaningless since his life was no longer his own.

Another wave of nausea washed over the young blacksmith, but he fought it down. That was when the pain in his head doubled. He let out a low moan, keeping it as small as possible, knowing Elizabeth or possibly Jack might come to his side if they heard. He could not bear the thought of being a burden. 

His head continued to pound, increasing in intensity, and he moaned again. He couldn't help it, though he would never have done it had he any control at all over himself. Control was something he had lost that day in Port Royal when Killian and his piratical fleet had attacked. He had been stripped of his sweet Elizabeth, his home, his life, his dignity. 

He had tried–oh, how he had tried!–to hold onto some measure of authority over his and Elizabeth's fate, but Killian had taken that charade from him as well. 

He knew he looked horrendous. He saw it in Elizabeth's face whenever she looked into his eyes. He could tell he'd lost weight for he could easily count his own ribs. He'd heard Elizabeth and Jack murmuring something about his being pale and having dark circles under his eyes. 

  
Then there was his strength–or rather, lack of it. He could barely raise his arm to take a cup of water when it was offered, and, when he could, his body betrayed him and he was wracked with tremors.

His frustration grew, but he lacked the strength to be properly angry. He couldn't hurl anything away from him in anger. He lacked even enough strength to let his anger show in his voice. Even in his mind, instead of the hot, burning fire of an all-consuming rage, he felt only a strange numbness, a separation, as though he was removed from all he should feel and all that went on around him. 

He had wept bitterly when the pain had first hit him, crying out in anguish, unable to articulate what he felt in anything other than a primal scream the very utterance of which was more expressive than he could imagine.

When Will could feel anything at all, it was humiliation that Elizabeth saw him like this: weak, helpless, dependent on those around him. He was fed and bathed in his bed, and his eyes burned with shame so that he had taken to pretending to be asleep whenever he knew she would be in with the rag and bucket to cleanse the drug-induced sweat and vomit from his body.

Will shivered and trembled with cold and fatigue. He knew his fever was high, and he'd only moments before felt as though he was on fire.

  
"Jack?" He called to his friend weakly, not remembering from time to time if Jack had allowed Elizabeth into the room that morning or not. He sometimes forbade her entry until she herself got some rest, but Jack would be there. Jack was always there.

Sure enough, in moments, Jack was at his side, clasping his hand. "Here I am, Will. It's all right."

"It hurts Jack!"

"I know it does, mate. I'm sorry."

In his mind, Jack cursed Killian to whatever hell men like him found themselves. He recalled Bootstrap going through these same withdrawal symptoms when he'd been taken by Killian. It was some sort of drug to make his victims easier to manage. Jack had never pinpointed what it was exactly, but he knew it was potent.

Playing nursemaid to the Blacksmith, Elizabeth and Jack were the only ones who saw him, and once or twice, Jack took advantage of his rights as captain and tossed Elizabeth out. He'd been through this with Bill and he knew what to expect, and he wasn't entirely certain that Will wasn't trying to appear in better control of himself with her around. Will Turner was a stubborn man, and Jack didn't want him adding stress to his recovery simply because he wanted to save his girlfriend some worry.

"Jack?"

"Yes, Will?"

"I need to know more about my father."

Jack sighed. "I'll tell you all I know, but only because I think you need something to occupy your mind." Jack launched into story after story about Will's father, telling tales of when they'd met, when they'd gotten drunk together and the way Bootstrap talked lovingly of the son he'd left behind in England. As he spoke, his hands traced seemingly random arcs in the air, and once or twice he swayed, his body moving in a circle or semi-circle at some invisible cue.

"Aye," Jack nodded, a gleam in his eyes. "And that's how I came to realize he'd been drunk the entire time!" He smiled at the recollection, his gold teeth shining in the light from lanterns and candles. He sobered then, all swaying and gesticulation disappearing as his voice became noticeably steadier and more serious.

"Your father was a good man, Will. I hope you have accepted that." Jack spoke earnestly. His eyes, clear and full of intelligence and sanity–for the moment at least–never strayed from his charge. "It's the truth. He was a good man and a good friend."

Will nodded. He had grown to accept that idea. At least he was more open to it than he had been when he had first met Captain Jack Sparrow. "I have, Jack, or at least I'm trying." He wanted to say more, but his stomach clenched suddenly and fire seemed to shoot through his veins. The young blacksmith clenched his eyes shut and clawed blindly for the captain's hand.

With his free hand, Jack reached for a cloth that still sat in a pail of water and bathed Will's feverish brow. He wished it could be cool water, but the Caribbean didn't allow it. As he worked, he spoke soothingly to his friend.

"Shh. It's all right, mate. You'll be well. And you and your bonnie lass will be able to return"

Will stopped shuddering enough to laugh bitterly. "Return to what? Port Royal is no more."

Jack sighed. He'd had a similar conversation with Elizabeth who had wept at the thought of her father's demise.

"We've no way of knowing what's 'appened. There must be survivors. If not, you can sail back to England"

Will spurned that suggestion vehemently. "I could not!"

Jack stopped wiping Will's brow in consternation. "And why is that?"

"It is bad enough that I am a blacksmith seeking the hand in marriage of the Governor's daughter in a small colony. Things that might be marginally acceptable here would be impossible there! If I took Elizabeth to England, we could never be together!" Desperation clouded Will's eyes and his thoughts. He could not give up on her.

Jack nodded. He didn't know what to say to the lad, so he was quiet. Another pain wracked the boy's body and Jack held him as Will clung to the captain. It had been many years since Jack had performed this same function for Bootstrap Bill, and he couldn't be sure, but he thought Will's reaction to the drugs Killian had given him was somewhat worse than his father's had been.

He couldn't be sure, of course. It could be his imagination.

Just then, Will shuddered violently, his eyes open but glazed. Jack knew the lad didn't see him leaning over his trembling form, and he reached out a hand to restrain the younger man. 

The shuddering increased just as Will put his hands to his stomach as if to ease some pain before he rolled slightly to the side and regurgitated. Retching melted into dry heaves that were, in a way, worse since tortured stomach muscles contracted repeatedly to expel contents that were not there. 

Jack clung to the boy, whispering comforting words when he could think of them. When the episode finally subsided, Will was paler and covered in sweat. His face was red with the efforts his body had forced upon him and his mouth tasted of vomit.

"Jack" his voice was weak with the monumental effort of speaking his friend's name.

"I'm here, lad." Jack was wiping Will's face with a damp rag, careful not to step into the puddle on the floor by the bed. He'd have to get that mopped.

Will seemed to relax slightly at the reassurance before he lost consciousness.

Jack watched him for a short time to be sure he was breathing properly, then he left the room to fetch a mop and bucket. He could have ordered a crewman to clean up the mess, but he had vowed that only he and Elizabeth would step foot inside the room until Will recovered.

**

Elizabeth saw Jack leave Will's sickroom and was instantly at his side moving with quick strides to keep pace with the Captain. "Jack, I refuse to allow you to keep me from his side any longer! I will care for him!"

Jack drew to a halt so suddenly that Elizabeth's hurried steps carried her several feet from him before she realized it and turned around. "Listen, Lizzie, my dear, I have no problem with you taking care of him, but as _Captain_ of this ship, I say when and for how long. Savvy?" 

"I am not a member of your crew! You cannot order me about! I am"

"quickly getting on my nerves, and if I didn't think your presence could be of help to the lad, I'd 'ave you locked below decks until we reach the next supply stop!" He let his anger drain away, but not his determination. "You can see him once you've had few hours kip, my love." He leered at her then, more from a habitual association of that particular facial expression with the words "my love" than from any personal desires he had. She was cute, he'd admit that, but she was Will's and he wouldn't have tried a thing with her even if it had occurred to him.

Retrieving a bucket and a mop, Jack returned to the cabin to clean up the latest mess. As he went, he called out to Gibbs who had the wheel. "Keep 'er steady, Mr. Gibbs, and let me know when we reach port!"

"Aye, Cap'n!" Gibbs steered merrily sure that all was right with the world now that they were headed away from Scratch. He was certain they had no more worries as the Pearl sliced easily through the clear blue water.

**

Elizabeth scowled at the retreating back of Captain Jack Sparrow. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she turned away and stormed across the deck towards the bow of the ship. Fuming, she tried to get control of her anger. 

Jack had no right to keep her from Will's side, and she had half a mind to stalk into the cabin with a sword drawn and demand that Sparrow leave Will to her care.

The only thing stopping her was the knowledge that Jack knew much more about this than she did. He'd already successfully treated Will's father from the same addiction. He knew what was going to happen and how best to deal with it. Plus, she had seen Will, in the rare moments when he was aware and cognizant, trying to shield her from the severity of his pains and troubles. She knew he placed to much pressure on himself to appear healthier than he was, happier than he could yet be, whenever she was there.

"Men!" They could be so stupid at times! How could Will not know how she needed to help him? Surely he would offer the same if their positions were reversed. She certainly wouldn't put up a façade of strength that belied the strain on her face. No, she would take the comfort offered.

She would have to make both men see that she could not be shut out!

**

__

Will Turner saw his father's limp form lying under the crushing weight of the

cannon. He felt the water, cold at these depths, swirling around them both

as he tried to find some way to free Bootstrap Bill, but even as he reached for 

his father, he saw the shackles around his own wrists. Looking behind him, he

was shocked beyond measure to see the ocean had gone. In its place stood a 

stone altar. Bootstrap Bill was strapped to it as Commodore Killian spoke strange

words in some strange language that seemed to feed the odd glowing box that lay

near Bootstrap's head as wood fed a fire.

Will opened his mouth to cry out to his father, to plead with the Commodore to

release him at once, but his voice was not his own.

  
As he watched in horror, Killian, a maniacal gleam in his eyes, raised a knife high

over his own head and brought it down to plunge deep into the chest of the man

on the altarwho had somehow become Captain Jack Sparrow.

  
Sparrow's eyes widened in surprise. "How interesting" he muttered even as his

blood oozed from the wound and the life oozed from his eyes.

Will's eyes opened and his body tried to sit up, but the cursed lack of strength only raised him partially from his bed. Gasping for air and for words, all he managed was a wordless scream. Strong arms caught him and eased him down even as he heard soft words of comfort.

Will blinked rapidly trying to restore his sense of reality. "Jack"

"Shhh! It's all right. Just a dream."

"Jack, I need to knowwhat was Killian doing?"

Jack hesitated, but only for a moment. "You're bright enough, me lad. Surely you've guessed by now."

"He thought my life might extend his own. I don't see how." Will gasped for breath after the words tumbled from his mouth.

"Supernatural mumbo jumbo, curses, stone altars, sacrifices, little wooden boxes that devour the lives they touchI've no idea." Jack smiled slightly. He was secretly more pleased than he could say that he'd managed to save Will from that maniacas he had his father.

  
Will nodded, still not understanding. One thing he did understand. "You saved Elizabeth."

"Yes."

"Thank you."

"Well, I couldn't leave her there like that, could I. I may be a pirate, but I have my standards."

Will smiled at that. "Jack"

"What?"

"I heard some of what you and Killian were saying in thein that room."

Jack had a feeling he knew where this was going. "Did you?" He did his best to look as though that wasn't of the slightest bit of concern to him.

"He said he should have killed you when you were a boy."

"Did he?" Jack moved back and swayed a bit in his seat as he considered. "Figure of speech?" He looked at Will, but Will was just staring at him.

Jack sighed. "You're just like Bootstrap. Fine, I'll tell you. I was cabin boy on the Maruader from the time I was ten. By the time I was twenty-five, Killian had made me one of the crew. When I was twenty-five, Killian intended to take Bootstraps life like he was intending to take yours. I've no idea why it wasn't me."

Jack fell silent thinking about it all.

"Jack"

"Sorry, rightwell, here's how it went" Jack carefully told the story he'd kept to himself since it had happened. He glossed over a few of the details, but in general, Will now knew everything.

"Where did you go?" Will asked, intrigued by the story.

"Bill and I rowed back to the fourth ship in Killian's little fleet. The crew of it was easily bought with promises of riches." Jack's tone hadn't changed, and Will was sure he was remembering more.

"Fourth ship?"

Jack smiled, his gold teeth catching the light of the candles. "The Black Pearl." 

"But"

"That's all I'm giving you, Will."

Will nodded as another wave of pain hit him. Soon all thought of Jack's secrets left him as he struggled to control himself when another wave of pain hit him.

Through it all, Captain Jack Sparrow comforted, consoled, and held onto the hurting boy whom he considered almost a son or a brother of his own.

To Be Continued

Responses to Reviews

Jackfan2: Your reviews really make me want to keep going with this. This chapter should answer some, though not all, of your questions. I do have some specific ideas about how things are going to turn out, but I won't divulge them here. Sorry, but you'll have to wait for the next chapter!

EnglishMystic: I'm overjoyed! Especially good you say? I'm blushing! I hope this one works for you, too!

Alexa: Yes, I get into trouble when I forget that I'm writing for myself. Whenever I write to please what I think are other people's expectations my story suffers. I have a slogan I wrote for myself to keep me on the right track. "Write with finesse, but don't write to impress." Not perfect, but it serves as a good reminder. More heart to heart talks, withdrawals, swashbuckling, and general butt kicking coming soon to a fanfic page near you!

LordLanceahlot: Thanks! That's my goal.

Emiri-chan: thanks for all your reviews on the various chapters. I hope this all works for you

Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Thanks for that! I'm always flattered and overjoyed to see that I'm on someone's Favorites List. I spent a lot of months here on no one's favorites list! Are the characters suffering to your satisfaction? If not, stay tuned. More suffering and angst to come!

Amanda: A fan! I have a fan! An impressed fan, no less! I am thrilled beyond words that you like what I've done. You are right. Jack is hard to write, and I worry about losing him, but I have some ideas for the next chapter that seem veryJacklike.

Kels: I hadn't thought of a series! That's a good idea. My muse and I better sit down and work this out!

Ice Flame 17: Thanks! It's awesome? As long as it keeps you all coming back to read more I'll be happy!

Padfoot4ever: Thanks! 

Trinity Day: Yes, there will be a few more. I'm not exactly sure how many. I guess it depends on how things develop. I do have definite plans, though.

Carrie5: The plot is captivating? My characters have such depth? **Ecri does happy dance.** Thanks! Wow! I would never get tired of hearing things like that! Keep reading! More to come! 


	9. part 9

****

Thanks for all the reviews! There isn't enough space for me to tell you all how much I get from reading your comments. (Replies to reviews at end of chapter.)

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 9 by Ecri

Jack Sparrow stared out at the sea taking a calming breath. It had been a long night. Will had barely slept, so Jack and Elizabeth had stayed up with him. The pirate wondered at Will's reaction to this drug. He was more certain than ever that Will seemed much worse than Bill had, and it puzzled him. He thought perhaps it could be the dose. Killian was likely not careful about things like that, and Will had lost a lot of weight in his time aboard ship. Bill's weight hadn't been an issue. He hadn't been a slave. He hadn't been beaten or mistreated in anyway. Killian had simply decided one day that Bootstrap Bill, a trusted member of his crew, would do well enough, and had slipped a drug to him in his food or in his drink.

Will, on the other hand, had been fed precious little besides the drug. Whatever he'd eaten in the last few months had likely been tainted, for Trilby had claimed Killian used the drug to make troublesome slaves more docile.

Docile. Just using the word in connection with Will Turner made Jack ill. Will was many things–bullheaded, single-minded, loyal–but docile he was not. Even now, half their problem with the boy was that he expected to be well. He couldn't understand not being able to stand, to feed himself, to raise his arm without trembling.

It had been much the same with Bill, though it had taken Bill at most a three or four days to recover. They were well into the second week with Will.

Bootstrap Bill's sonit still took him a bit off guard. From the moment they'd met, he'd known there was something familiar about the blacksmith, but it wasn't until he'd learned the boy's name that he'd put it together. Bootstrap had spoken of a family he'd left behind. He'd even sent money back to them on occasion, but Jack never imagined he'd meet the lad. As far as he'd known, Bill's family had stayed in England. That the lad had left home to search for his father seemed remarkable, but then, Will Turner had proved himself remarkable.

"Chip off the ol' block, 'ey mate?" Jack laughed to himself, as he turned the ship's wheel. His laughter away as thoughts of Bill enticed his mind to wander old familiar roads. He remembered how Bill had sent some portion of his share of plunder home to England whenever he could safely do so. He remembered Bill's own worst fears that his son would follow his father and become a pirate.

"I wouldn't wish a pirate's life on my only child, Jack."

Jack nodded. "I know, but it's in 'is blood. A pirate's life may not be what 'e wants, but 'e's gonna have to taste it once before 'e knows."

"As long as it doesn't end in a pirate's death."

Crossing the deck, Jack stood in front of the wheel and stared out to sea for a moment. "Pirate's don't die. They sail to the next port."

"Aye, that's true enough, Captain Jack! That's true enough." _Bill suddenly sobered. "If ye had it to do again, Jack, would you still be a pirate?"_

  
_Jack heard not only the question, but also the words Bill didn't say. Did he have regrets? Did he wish he'd chosen a respectable profession? Did he wish he could settle down, or that he'd become a merchant sailor? Jack sighed. Some pirates spent their lives thinking through such things, but JackJack was different._

  
"Ye don't choose to be a pirate, Bill. Piracy chooses you. I couldn't be anything other than what I am." He smiled allowing a glint in his eye with practiced ease that he knew most would read as insanity. "BesidesI'm good at it, mate. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Bill laughed at the twinkle in Jack's eye, as Jack had intended, but then he added his own observation. "And there's none other like ye, mate!"

Jack sighed. He knew what Bill had meant by not wishing this life on his son, but Jack couldn't imagine being anything else. He answered to no one, save men like Norrington when he was caught, and he planned not to be caught again.

His reverie was cut short when Elizabeth appeared at his elbow. He cursed himself silently that he'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard her approach. Trying to keep the upper hand, he addressed her first. "And what can I do for you, Miss Swann?"

"It's Will. When we make port, you should try to find a doctor." Elizabeth tried to look stoic and matter-of-fact in her suggestion, but the unusual sight of her wringing her hands, as well as the concern visible in her eyes, belied all such attempts.

She looked distressed as she said the words, and Jack thought, perhaps, the lad had taken a quick turn while he'd come out to see to ship's business. He felt his heart lurch at the thought, and was surprised at the reaction.

Releasing the ship's wheel, Jack gestured for Gibbs, who hovered nearby in case he was needed, to take it as he moved towards his cabin. Elizabeth fell into step beside him. "What's happened? Is he worse?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not really."

Jack stopped and turned to face her. "What?"

"He's not really worse, no."

Jack waited for explanation. He stared at the girl, arms crossed in front of him. When she didn't respond to the silent demand for information, he raised his left hand, supporting the elbow with his right. "And?" His left hand waved vaguely around as though trying to pluck her words from the air around him.

"He's not worse, but he gets no better." She had said these words to him many times, and his exasperation had yet to be any sort of a deterrent to hearing them again.

Jack's eyes were wide and frustration was plain upon his face. "Ye'aven't said that again, 'ave ye? Ye can't 'ave said that again!" He stepped closer to her, invading her personal space, yet the girl held her ground. "Will is getting better. It's just taking time."

"You said it didn't take his father anywhere near this much time"

"We've been through that! I've told ye"

Elizabeth drew in a breath, and stepped closer to Jack, not even noticing when she forced the Captain to take a step backwards. Pointing at his chest, and occasionally poking him with her finger to punctuate her words, she continued to step forward until the two were moving in a small tight circle. "You haven't told me much except to repeat that he'll be fine! When? He can barely eat or drink without retching, and his nightmares are worse than ever!"

Jack stopped moving. "Nightmares?"

"Not that he'll tell me that's what it is, but it's obvious!" Her anger was soon replaced by her worries for Will. "He's not getting better. Bring a doctor!"

"Liz, there's nothing I'd like better, but there won't be one where we're going. We're stopping for supplies; then we're movin' on. Once we get somewhere where they 'ave a doctor, you're more than welcome to run off and find one!" Trained physicians were few in the Caribbean, and Jack would rather not risk Will's life on some stranger with rusty knives, a bottle of whiskey, and a sack full of leeches.

Just then, Gibbs called out for all aboard to hear. "Land to starboard! Approaching port!"

Jack glared at Elizabeth for another moment, then turned on his heel and took his position at the wheel, kohl-rimmed eyes smoldering, yet focused on the island they approached.

**

Trilby walked along the waterfront checking the names of those few ships that had docked overnight. He was looking for a good, fast ship with not too fierce a reputation so he could sign on and finally get back out to sea. He'd been here too long already, but he'd found the days blurring into each other as he'd used bottle after bottle of rum in a feeble attempt to purge the mental images of what Commodore Killian had done to that poor Turner boy. 

He'd been entirely unsuccessful, but he had taken to consoling himself with the thought that he'd somehow helped set Captain Jack Sparrow and The Black Pearl off to find and maybe rescue the boy. Not that he thought rescue was possible. If he had thought so, he'd have gone along when Sparrow had suggested it.

It wasn't really his concern Trilby told himself over and over again. He had concerns of his own, like where he was going to find work. Trilby was a seagoing man at heart, and now that he'd been on dry land for so long, he was itching to feel the roll of the ocean's waves beneath his feet and the kiss of salt air upon his skin. One of these ships, he thought, must have an opening.

It was as he sauntered across to one he thought he knew, or had heard of once before, when Trilby caught sight of someone moving in the shadows. Someone crouched there between some recently unloaded crates and barrels, trying not to be seen in the dimming light of the setting sun. Trilby squinted trying to make it out. The movements were quick and hurried, but stiff, as though each movement caused the man unbearable pain yet he showed no sign of stopping or resting.

  
Thinking perhaps the man might need a helping hand, and his thoughts still unmercifully on the many things he should have done to help young Turner when he'd had the chance, Trilby crossed the road and drew up next to the dark figure.

"Ahoy, mate! You need a 'and?" He reached out to the dark huddled figure, half-hidden in shadow. 

A strange rumbling sound came from the shaded figure, and Trilby hastily withdrew his hand. " 'ere! Wot's wrong wi'ya?" He took a step backwards in case the man's malady was more brought on by illness more than drink.

In less time than it took his trepidation to take hold of his heart, the man-shaped shadow stood shaking off its cloak and took hold of his throat. "You'll do, for a start."

Trilby's eyes widened as his hands flew instinctively to his throat trying desperately to pry the iron grip away and allow him to take a breath. 

  
The shadow-man loosened his grip slightly allowing his captive to take a slow shuddering breath just as blackness crept into his vision. Greedily gulping what little air he was permitted, Trilby looked intently at the apparition. "CCommodore?"

Killian stepped forward showing his face in the last vestiges of the fading sunlight at precisely the moment when the sun sank below the horizon. His face was a hideous mass of wrinkled, sagging flesh that hung in loose folds upon his bones. His hair a few wisps of gray clinging stubbornly to a mostly bald scalp. But it was not the hideousness of the visage before him that had terror blooming in Trilby's heart. 

Looking up into that face, transformed by some evil curse, the old pirate saw the Commodore's eyes. They glowed with an evil light that Trilby had never seen before, and they exuded a malice and a thirst for blood that spoke of massacre.

Killian released his grip on Trilby's throat, only to grab the man's arm. "Have you seen the Pearl, Trilby?"

It was then the man knew that, somehow, Jack Sparrow had managed to free Turner. Knowing little of the Captain of the Pearl, Trilby could only guess that he wouldn't have left the Commodore alive if he could have helped it. "N-no! I ain't 'eard a single word of 'er since she left port 'ere lookingyou."

Killian grinned, but the expression held no humor, only anticipation, malevolence, and hatred. "They'll have to stop for suppliesI am not too late." He glanced up at the moon. It would be full in a matter of days. His brief respite, his stay of execution as it were, was almost over. The grin returned, but this time, it made Trilby shiver.

"Tilby, my friend, we're about to bag a Sparrowas soon as I take care of some unfinished business." His laughter echoed across the docks sending a shiver down Trilby's spine.

**

Anamaria stared at the back of the pirate in front of her watching the slump of his shoulders and the sharp intake of breathe as he seemed to argue with himself. Captain Jack Sparrow was not an easy egg to crack. He still seemed insane more often than not, but this most recent adventure, for lack of a better word, seemed unsettling for him. Treasure wasn't the only thing a pirate buried, and Anamaria was certain the Captain hid things from himself as well as from others.

She tipped her hat back slightly on her head as she watched his shoulders suddenly straighten and his mumbling cease. Without preamble he took the wheel from Gibbs. "I'd like to get to port before sunset!" He barked the words and Gibbs looked at him in uncertainty. Anamaria caught his eyes and shook her head once, letting him know he hadn't really done anything wrong. The Captain was just in a mood.

They were putting into port to pick up some supplies for their trip. The run to and from Scratch had much depleted their stockpile, and she was relieved that they had made it here without incident. She'd been worried when they'd picked up Elizabeth, and later, when they'd pulled a battered, drugged Will Turner from the clutches of some sinister plot she had yet to fathom. She'd assumed they'd need to ration a bit tighter to allow for two extra mouths. No such precaution had been necessary.

Turner could barely keep down what few sips of water they managed to force down his throat, and Swann and Sparrow ate less than the birds whose names they bore as they hovered over the injured boy, too consumed with worry to consume the food they needed.

Expertly, and with the skills of his long years experience, Captain Jack Sparrow slipped the Black Pearl into a vacant berth, wishing all the while that he could do it more quickly.

Glaring at Gibbs again, he issued his orders. "I'll be takin' half the crew ashore for supplies. Once we're back, the rest can take a short leave, but we sail again at daybreak! Make sure they know, we'll be followin' the Code on this one!"

With that, the Captain jumped from the ship and onto the docks, the men he'd chosen to accompany him close at his heels. Jack was indeed in a bad mood, and none of his crew had any desire to test him.

Anamaria sighed as she watched Sparrow's back. Tearing her eyes away, she glanced towards the cabin, knowing Elizabeth was in there with Will, and that, likely, she was in no better mood than the captain. She shook her head. This wouldn't be a fun trip.

**

Elizabeth again gently stroked Will's forehead with the water-soaked cloth. He was dreaming again, locked in some nightmare image, which he never fully escaped even when awake. She tried to wake him now, but wasn't able. It worried her, but Jack always sent her away when she grew worried over this inability to wake him. Often he would send her out of the room and lock her out.

Irritated at this, she'd been too angry to do more than allow it on the first occasion. On the second, she'd decided not to allow it. 

****

Flashback

She'd walked around the Pearl until she found a strong rope, then, deftly tying one end securely to the rail as Norrington had once showed her, she'd tied a loop in the other end and used it to stuck her foot into it. As quickly as she was able, she lowered herself precariously over the side until she'd been suspended in front of the cabin's porthole. It was open, as it often was, to catch what breezes deigned to be caught.

She watched as Jack bent over Will, gently removing the damp cloth Elizabeth had placed upon his forehead. "Will?" He called to the younger man, but Will only turned restlessly from side to side, grimacing in pain or horror. 

"Will?" He called again, louder, but again to no affect.

Will's hands came up in an unconscious plea for help. Jack caught them both in one hand and held them still against Will's heaving chest. Will was screaming now, the images of his dream tearing the sounds from his parched throat as tears slipped beneath tightly clenched eyes. 

Elizabeth was about to try to climb back up the rope and try to get to his side somehow, when she saw a sight that chilled her blood.

  
Jack, still doubled over and standing above the screaming boy, pulled back his one free hand and slapped Will soundly across the face.

  
Shocked, Elizabeth swayed on her rope as she opened her mouth to say something only to close it with an audible snap as Jack again struck Will. One more blow, and Will's eyes opened. Feverbright, they locked on Jack's though it was apparent he wasn't seeing the Captain. To Elizabeth's surprise, Jack struck him once more, and Elizabeth was about to yell at him, all thoughts of keeping her presence secret gone in the face of this attack.

Surprise again caught her in its grip as Will stopped struggling. His glazed eyes focused on the man above him. "J-Jack?" He seemed confused more than anything.

"Jack" he spoke clearly and softly, his throat still parched and his mind still lost in images from whatever nightmare had tormented him.

"Sshhh! It's alright, mate. You're not alone." With the gentleness of a mother with a newborn babe, Jack settled Will back down and returned the newly moistened cloth to his forehead. "Whatever yer seein' it's just a dream, lad."

"Dream." Will repeated the word as though he'd never heard it before. "It wasa dream."

"Aye, that it was, and you're burning with fever from it." Jack mopped the sweat from Will's face and chest, speaking to him softly as he worked.

Elizabeth watched, her surprise at Jack's slapping Will doubled at the realization that he could be so gentle. She continued to watch in amazement as Jack gently stripped Will's sweat soaked shirt from him and replaced it with a cleaner, drier one even as he spoke reassuring words to his young friend. 

Elizabeth had considered Captain Jack Sparrow a friend since their bizarre adventure with Captain Barbossa, but she had not realized just how good a friend he was to Will. Will sorely needed friends. He worked hard and long hours at the smithy, robbing him of what time he might have otherwise had to linger over ale and conversation. Raised almost entirely by a drunken blacksmith, Will hadn't had time to make many friends, and heaven knew the people in Elizabeth's circle had done nothing to make him feel welcome.

Her attention was drawn back to Will as he cried out again in confusion, still fighting past the memory of the dream. "It seemed so real, Jack. What if it is? What if"

"I'll hear no more of that, Will Turner! You're not responsible for your father's death no matter what sort of dreams you've 'ad!" The way he spoke, Elizabeth was sure he'd had this conversation with Will before, yet Will hadn't spoken to her of any dreams. Momentarily angered at the thought, she forced herself to chase such feelings away. Will was likely seeking comfort from Jack over this because Jack had known Will's father. How could she begrudge him that?

"But Jack"

"No buts, Will Turner! As stubborn as yer father! He wouldn't want ye goin' on like this!" Jack's admonishment seemed to do the trick, settling Will's thoughts and momentarily stilling his almost incessantly trembling body.

Jack fussed over Will for another moment or two, then, when he seemed to have drifted off to sleep again, he turned to look Elizabeth in the eye. "Let's get you inside, Miss Swann."

Elizabeth gaped at the pirate. "Howhow did you" She couldn't finish the question as she traced the last few minutes in her mind's eye wondering when she'd given herself away.

To her consternation, a sly grin spread across her face, and an odd glint appeared in his eye. She groaned as she realized what he was about to say.

"How? You forget, lass. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

****

End Flashback

Elizabeth had never been able to determine how Jack had known she was there, and he'd refused to tell her. 

Now, she watched Will's shallow breathing almost mesmerized by it. She must have dozed, her tired body giving in easily to what it sorely needed. She might have slept through the night, early as it was, but for the loud crash she heard just outside the door. 

Standing, she raced to the door and flung it open to find the remaining crew of the Black Pearl battling pirates. Slipping back inside, she pulled a sword from Jack's personal armaments, and stepped out again, carefully closing the door, locking it, and slipping the key down the front of her dress into a pocket concealed in the lining.

Turning to face the raiding crew, she stood in wide-eyed astonishment at the face of Commodore Killian as he leered at her. "Miss SwannI'd sell you again, but I don't have the time for it. I'll assume the lad is in there!" He gestured behind her towards the cabin door even as he raised his sword and swung at her head.

****

To be continued.

Author's note: I know I said the swashbuckling would be back in this chapter. Ooops! I guess I meant the next chapter! Enjoy, and check back later for more!

Responses to Reviews:

Jackfan2: Thanks! I do have some things up my sleeve. I only hope they don't disappoint.

Trinity Day: I'm glad you're enjoying this! I'm enjoying writing it.

EnglishMystic: Thanks! I guess you like the comfort side of hurt/comfort! There's lots more angst, introspection, swashbuckling, and humor to come.

LordLanceahlot: Thanks. Let me know when yours is written.

Anaticulapraecantrix: Glad you liked that!

Phoenix Flight: Don't worry. At least he's among friends now.

Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Thanks. Can I take it that you love this story?

Sirena: A shining fanfiction review if ever I saw one! Wow! Thanks! You've eased a lot of my own worries over the story. I do hope you like the rest of it. Again, thanks!

Death: Umspooky namebut, thanks!

Emiri-chan: Thank you for your enthusiastic review. I will search out your fic as soon as I've finished this one. (This and a few other unfinished fics are taking all my time at the moment, but I will make time to read yours.) As for your questionsbut you'll have to wait to read the rest of the fic to find out! 

Alexa: Yeah, you never know what Elizabeth's going to see. She never stays where they put her! No, things won't be easy for Will, but he's got people to look out for him now, plus, he's a strong man. He's got some fight left in him. I do know just what you mean. Writing for yourself is a truer expression ofwhatever you need to express. Writing what others want to read never goes half as well. I will check out that fic you recommended.

  
Alicia: Yeah, I hate clichesthough they can be useful from time to time. Genius? (Ecri blushes.) Thanks!

Jack the Pirate: Thanks! I love to call people fans of my work! Stay tuned for more swashbuckling!

  
Amy85: Sorry about the delay. I was a bit blocked, but now I'm back on track! More to come soon.

Padfoot4ever: Thanks! I'm enjoying this, too! (The writing, that is!)


	10. part 10

****

Again, thanks for the reviews. It's as much fun for me to read them as it is for me to write this! 

I have to apologize for the length of time it took for me to write this chapter. I don't know for sure what happened, but my muse seems to have gone insane. I found this story going in the oddest directions, and there was no way I could force it back to the direction I intended for it to go! Anyway, I hope my muse is more cooperative in the future, and I hope you like this chapter! Please let me know if you do! Reviews greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 10 by Ecri

Captain Jack Sparrow moved quickly through the town, making arrangements for supplies. His men, led by Mr. Cotton and his parrot, took delivery and made purchases as Jack dictated. He'd just given them leave to visit the local tavern intending to join them there himself for a quick drink before returning to the Pearl and Will, but there was one stop he had to make first.

  
As he walked, his thoughts turned towards Will Turner. Jack was still astonished the lad had somehow appeared in his life not once, but twice now. Seeing Elizabeth sold as a slave had shocked him, and there'd been no course for him but to save her. Thinking he'd be returning her safe to Will's frantic arms, he'd felt his heart drop at the news that Commodore Killian had been responsible for Elizabeth's situation and held Will prisoner.

He'd known right away what the insane Commodore had planned, and he'd known he'd have to stop it. 

Elizabeth's worry over Will's current health was certainly warranted, but she refused to believe that Jack knew what he was talking about. To be fair, Jack assumed that the worry over Will's safety overrode any thoughts Elizabeth might have had of Captain Jack Sparrow's veracity.

Shaking away the thoughts when he realized they distracted him from his surroundings, he gazed intently at several houses he had passed trying to bring to mind the exact location of the one he sought. 

He smiled in satisfaction when he found it and knocked on the door. It took several more knocks before he finally received an answer.

"All right! 'Ang on! I'm comin'!" A loud, gravelly voice called from behind the door.

Jack assumed a stance of relaxed anticipation, a smirk fixed upon his face as the door was torn open so violently it could have been snapped from its hinges.

A small man, so slight he seemed fragile, stood there, his eyes squinting in irritation until recognition widened them as Jack watched.

"Jack Sparrow! As I live and breathe!" The man seemed unsure if he should step forward and embrace the pirate or step back and allow him entry. In the end, he settled for an odd combination of the two, taking half a step forward and taking firm hold of Jack's arm and dragging him inside.

Jack laughed. "That's Captain Jack Sparrow, and well you know it! 'Ow are ye, mate?" 

The man laughed a cackling sort of sound, and nodded his head so vigorously the few wisps of gray hair that still clung to it waved in the air. "I know it! I do indeed know it!" He laughed again, and without asking his friend if he were in need of refreshment, he moved to a small cabinet and drew out a half-empty bottle of rum and two cracked mugs. 

Pouring two liberal doses, the man placed one before his now-seated visitor and one before himself as he took his own seat.

Finally the man, still grinning in surprise and glee at the unexpected arrival, turned his attention to the purpose of the visit. "Wot brings ye 'ere, Jack m'boy!"

"Not so much a boy, now, mate. It's been quite some time since I've looked you up, and I wasn't sure"

"If I'd met my maker?" The old man cackled, bringing a smile to Jack's face.

Jack leaned across the table, then looked to either side of the room as if making sure no one would overhear though they were the only two in the room. "Between you and me, Joe me old sod, I wasn't sure."

Joe laughed and raised his glass. "To the Sea, sweetest mistress a man can 'ave!"

Jack raised his as well. "And most demanding!"

They both drank, and Joe quickly refilled their glasses, raising his own again immediately after. "To the Sweet Smell of Salt in the air!"

  
Jack nodded, raising his glass again. "To the tang of sea salt on the lips!"

Again they drank, and again Joe filled the glasses. "To the sight of sunrise and sunset upon her clear blue water!"

Jack raised his glass a little more slowly, his body moving back slightly and then forward once more as his free hand traced a figure eight in the air. "Tosavoring your rum so we don't run out!"

Joe's cackle reached a higher pitch, and Jack shushed him, the rum already giving him a pleasant warmth in his stomach.

Jack opened his mouth as though to speak as Joe poured more rum, but then clamped it shut again, frowning. "Whatwas I goin' ta say?"

Joe ignored the remark and raised a glass again.

Jack saw the gesture, and, without waiting to hear the words Joe was about to utter, cried out. "To drinkin' to forgeteven when you didn't mean to!"

It took Jack a little while to remember what he'd been about to say, and, when he did, he almost decided it would be best to forget it again. Finally, while Joe told some tale or reminiscence of their days sailing together long ago, Jack considered his options. He had come here almost without allowing himself to think about it. He didn't want to give himself a chance to back down. He worried that he wouldn't want to face this, but the past seemed to have found a way to come back to him.

  
It had started with the first time he'd met Will Turner. Even there in the smithy as they fought he had known there was something familiar about the boy. Later, he believed his instinct to escape had stopped him from putting a name to the face. The lad was the spitting image of his old man, though truth be told, Bootstrap Bill was a bit taller, a bit wider, and much lessintense. It was partially Will's intensity that had made him appear just unfamiliar enough to keep Jack's tired and escape driven mind from making the connection between father and son.

He'd thought he'd faced the past quite well when he'd left Port Royal, only to run smack into it when he rescued Elizabeth—again—and found himself going after Killian to save Will. Nowhe sighed as he realized there was still some small part of his last meeting with Killian he'd been trying to avoid. 

He looked at Joe, cleared his throat, and spoke in a soft voice. "I'm 'ere for it, Joe. It's time."

  
Joe sobered almost immediately, his laughter fading as his face fell. "I couldn't give it to ye if I wanted to. Bill's been gone a long time!"

"Oh, aye, gone. Gone but not goneif you know what I mean."

Joe puzzled over the expression, the rum obviously messing with his memory. "No, can't say I do? He's gone?"

"Aye, he's gone now, but 'e wasn't gone then."

"But'e's been gone for years"

Jack narrowed his eyes, the rum interfering with his brain. "Ayehe's been gone for ten yearsbut 'e's only recently left usif you know what I mean."

Joe shook his head. "I can't quite follow ye, cap'n."

Jack sighed and threw back the last of his rum. "I'm not askin' ye ta follow" He was quiet for a moment, then he waved a hand in front of his face and screwed his eyes shut as though they hurt. Opening them again, he spoke slowly and deliberately. "Bill's been missing a long time. He's only recently dead."

"Dead?" Joe scowled. "When did Bill die?"

"Well, 'e was sunk to the bottom of the sea with a cannon tied to his bootstraps, but the curse kept 'im alive until last year." Jack swayed slightly in his seat and stood as though the seat was too confining.

Joe shook his head. "That ain't true! Y'ain't lisnin, Jack. I can't give it to ye because Bill took it. Bill came by 'ere and took it 'isself!"

Jack spun around and faced Joe with such speed and suddenness that Joe sat back in his chair and gave a startled yelp. "He can't 'aveBill's dead."

"No! Bill said 'e was lookin' for ye. He said you'd been marooned on some island somewhere and 'e was goin' ta find ye!"

"When? When did 'e say this? When was 'e 'ere?" Jack's random movements and waving hands were stilled by his vehemence and his need to know.

"It musta been three years ago now." Joe smiled and reached across the table to pour more rum. "Ol' Bill said 'e'd never fegive 'isself if 'e didn't find ye. Oh, ye lads was close. It always amazed me, but ye seemed even closer after Nick" His smile faded and he looked away, changing the subject. "So, Bill went off ta find ye, Cap'n. Ye probably missed each other."

"Yeah." Jack sat heavily in the chair again. His equilibrium was gone. "Are ye sure, Joe?" His eyes looked sad and troubled. "Are ye sure it was Bill?"

Joe scowled. "I'm not a fool! It was Bill! He looked just the same."

  
Jack didn't answer. He sat staring first at nothing at all then he smiled a slow smile. "You gave it to 'im then?"

"Sure, and why not? It's 'is as much as it's yours!"

"And Nick's." Jack grimaced at the sound of a name he hadn't said in years.

******

__

Aboard the Black Pearl

Elizabeth fell to the deck and rolled across it, leaping to her feet behind Killian. Looking around for a weapon, she saw nothing of great use. A mop lay discarded by a crewman now bleeding to death where Killian had left him. Wishing all the while for a sword, she picked up the mop.

Killian turned to face her, and, seeing her wielding a mop began to laugh.

Angered, but not willing to be distracted, Elizabeth swung the mop swatting him in the head with the wet end. She was stronger than she looked, and while he was bent double by the force of the blow, she slid her hands along the mop handle, and, grasping just above the wet strands, swung the opposite end to hit a well-chosen area between the undead man's legs.

Alive or undead, a blow like that brought any man to his knees. Elizabeth whacked him again in the head for good measure and called to anyone still aboard who might help.

  
Gibbs and Anamaria, armed with blades and pistols, appeared at her side, though they had to fight members of Killian's crew just for the privilege of standing there.

Gibbs struck a man soundly with his sword and a spurt of blood from an open artery sprayed him full in the face. 

Anamaria ran a man through, but another stood there a moment later.

Elizabeth, too busy to be surprised by the blood, moved around Killian hoping to get to Jack's cabin where Will rested. She knew Jack kept several swords and pistols inside and needed to arm herself with more than a wet mop.

Swinging around the man, who now fought two other crewmen, Elizabeth slipped into the cabin. Rushing to the wall, she drew a sword from its scabbard and a pistol from its holster. Then, loath to leave her love completely unprotected, she crossed to his side.

"Will?" She called to him hoping he would be coherent. "Will my love? Can you wake up?"

  
Will stirred and opened his eyes, which Elizabeth was quick to note seemed much brighter and clearer than they had the last time she had seen them. "Will?" She handed him the gun. "I want you to take this. We're being boarded."

"Boarded?" Will struggled to sit up, but Elizabeth placed a hand upon his chest stilling him. "If anyone comes through the door shoot them!"

"Elizabeth! No! I"

"Stay where you are, Will Turner!" She kissed his forehead, but did not allow herself to linger. She raced to the door. "I love you!" She put her heart in those words, but before he could reply, she had slipped out the door and shut it tight.

Will, only half awake looked down at the pistol in his hand. "I must help her" He swung his feet to the floor easily, but standing was an entirely different matter.

*******

Trilby stared in horror at the havoc Killian and his newest crew were causing aboard the Pearl. He hadn't wanted to follow the man, but he had little choice. When Killian had found him, Trilby had been horrified, but somehow unable to walk away. He knew it was fear. He was always one to allow fear to dictate his actions. Fear of starvation led him to find—and sometimes steal—food. Fear of dying of pneumonia kept him searching for shelter in the harsh weather, and fear that Killian had killed too many men to stop at one more of his crew had led him to put ashore when the Commodore had proved how he intended to treat Will Turner.

Now, fear of death once more kept him cowering from the Commodore's sight. He would fight the Pearl's crew. He was a pirate after all, but he would do it as far from Killian's reach as possible.

Keeping one eye on Killian and one on his own fighting wasn't easy, to be sure, but he'd developed a talent for it in the time they'd spent waiting for the Pearl to put in to port. Killian had needed menfor some dark purpose was all Trilby knew, but since the men seemed to have disappeared, Trilby assumed blood had been spilt. 

Aboard the Pearl, Trilby's hope soared. He assumed his time with Killian would soon be over. If Killian got his revenge on Jack Sparrow and Will Turner, there'd be little need for the likes of him! He could just about convince himself that he could slip away unnoticed once Killian was deeply involved in his own plans.

Killian's eyes drifted towards Trilby then. No, the panicked man thought. Not mehe's looking for someone. Trilby scanned the crowd. Could it be Turner he sought? The lad wasn't on deck. Just then Trilby saw Killian notice the door to the Captain's Cabin open and Elizabeth slipped out onto the deck.

  
The Commodore slipped his sword in its sheath and drew his gun. The evil grin that spread across the man's face froze Trilby to the spot. 

****

Anamaria brought her sword down in a bold stroke and felled the man who would have taken Gibb's head. Seeing belatedly what she had done, he nodded his thanks, returning the favor moments later when he shoved her roughly aside at the last moment before she would have been seriously wounded.

Anamaria leapt to the right as she saw Elizabeth loosing some of the rigging and dropping a sail upon the heads of three pirates. The men fell to the deck, and Anamaria briefly wondered how upset Captain Jack Sparrow would be at the ill-treatment of his sails.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, narrowly escaped another sword blow, but her sidestep brought her within reach of Killian himself. The Commodore reached out a hand and brought her to him, his gun at her temple.

Elizabeth struggled against Killian, but he fought with the strength of desperation as well as that of the undead. 

Anamaria dispatched another pirate before turning her attention to the only other woman aboard the ship. "Let her alone, Killian!" 

Killian laughed though there was little other than malice in the sound. "I'll do no such thing!"

He cocked his gun then, laughing all the while.

It was the sound of the gun firing that froze Anamaria's heart.

*****

__

In Town

Jack sipped his rum. He didn't intend to be long, but one more drink wouldn't delay him too much. As he savored he flavor and familiar burn of the alcohol, his eyes came to rest on his friend. "Did Bill say anything about Nick?"

Joe shook his head. "Nah. 'E wasn't 'ere long enough. 'E only stayed long enough to take it and run. 'E said there weren't time for a proper visit and that 'e 'ad to be off to find ye, Jack. He was desperate for it." The old man's brow furrowed as he recalled the long-ago conversation he'd had with Bootstrap.

Joe suddenly rose from his seat. "All this reminds me" He stopped talking as he rummaged through an old chest pulling out bottles of rum, a few old bits and baubles from his plundering days, and, finally, a small nondescript box. He walked back to Jack. "This 'ere was Bootstraps. 'E wanted to pass it to 'is son, but I figure ye can do that better'n me."

Jack took the box almost reverently. He knew what this would mean to Bootstrap. More importantly, he knew what it would mean to Will. He looked up at Joe who still stood in front of him. "What's in it?"

Joe laughed and gave a shrug. "Can't say what you don't know. Never opened it. Weren't my business." He laughed. "But if ye hadn't turned up when ye did, I mighta doneAfter 11 years or so, I figure I could sell a thingto pay the rental on me keeping it safe for so long!" He laughed again.

Jack smiled, wondering if Joe would have sold it, but glad that there was something of Bill's he could give to Will.

Joe settled into his chair again. "He was worried for ye, Jack. You and his boy. He was all in a state about ye. Where ye were and what 'ad 'appened, though 'e never told me a word about it."

Jack barely moved. "Tell me." He had to know. He needed to hear from someone who'd seen Bill alive.

**

Joe shrugged as if it made no difference to him and launched into his story. "'E came 'ere to get it. 'E said it was a stupid plan anyway, and it shouldn't be left for the last one of ye alive. 'E said 'e'd share it with ye or no one would 'ave it." Joe cackled again. "Bill insisted the three of ye shoulda shared it ta begin with! Said it mighta changed yer luck if ye 'ad!"

Joe considered the words Bill had uttered and shrugged. "Couldn'ta hurt, considerin'," His thoughts took him back to Bill's last visit as he told Jack everything he could remember.

__

Bill took what he'd come for barely giving it a perfunctory glance as he slipped it into his pack. "I wish I had the time to stay and visit, Joe, but I'm goin' ta find Jack."

"Is 'e missin'?"

"Aye. That 'e is, and I mean ta find 'im." 

Joe stared thoughtfully at the taller man, noting the strange look in his eyes. "If ye don't mind me sayin' you look unsettledlike ye've 'ad a scare or something."

"A scare?"

To Joe's surprise, Bill began to chuckle. "You could say that, Joe. Jack'e didn't deserve it, and I've got ta set it right."

Joe leaned forward. "What are ye on about? Ye couldn't 'ave done anything to Jack! Why, you two are closer than brothers!" Joe gaped at the other man as a look of guilt and fear appeared on his face.

The haunted look told Joe that Bootstrap Bill wasn't seeing his surroundings at allnot the small house Joe called home, nor the bottle of rum half-ignored upon the table. No, Bill's eyes were focused on something far awaysomething disturbing. He frowned as Bill's eyes glaze over and he becomes lost in thought. Clearing his throat, he called to Bill. "If I know ye, lad, ye're takin' blame that ain't yers ta take! You wouldn'ta hurt Jack for all the world!"

He began to laugh but the sound died in his throat as Bill turned to stare at him. "It's not always what ye do that can 'urt a man. Sometimes it's what ye don't do." Whether it was the rum or the time of night, Joe never knew, but Bill uncharacteristically kept talking. "There's only two left in this world that matter ta me, Joe. My boy and Captain Jack Sparrow. Not much chance of me ever helping my boy, but JackI can try to set that right."

He sat next to Joe and leaned close to the man guaranteeing that he'd have Joe's complete attention. "I'm off to find 'im. To bring 'im back." He shook his head, wishing he had more than a vague idea where Jack had been marooned. That and moneyhe needed to find a way to reach that island, and, having little in the way of cash, he couldn't buy a ship. He'd have to book passage or try to get work on some transport heading that way. His voice shook with emotion as he locked eyes on Joe's. "If I don't come back, if ye hear I'm dead, or if Jack comes without me" He reached into his pack and rummaged for a moment before pulling out a small box. "Get this to my boy. Give it to Jack if he lives and I don't. If we both die, find a way to get it to William Turner in London. Ye got that? Willaim Turner in London. It's all I can ever give 'im. 'E should 'ave it."

Joe nodded mutely.

"And that's all I can tell ye about it! Do ye know 'ow to find 'is boy?"

Jack laughed. "Bootstrap's lad is aboard the Pearl even now recovering after a run in with Killian."

  
Joe stared at Sparrow as if the pirate had lost his mind. "Killian! Ye can't be serious!"

"Oh, aye, I'm serious enough." Jack slipped the small box into his pocket. "Will Turner, Blacksmith by trade." He rose and tuned towards the door. "And I've lingered long enough. 'E's not well, yet, and 'is lass is lookin' for reason to find a doctor."

Joe chortled. "A doctor! She won't be findin' one 'round 'ere! Not the reputable sort anyways!"

As Jack reached the door, he turned back towards his friend. "Alive? Bootstrap's alive?"

"Well, 'e was three years ago!"

"Ye've given me a lot to think about, mate. Good luck to ye." Jack tossed something through the air to the older man and slipped out the door before Joe could say a word.

Joe caught the tosses object in mid-air, his reflexes not affected by age or rum. With a smile, he raised the gold coin to his mouth and bit it, nodding. "Real enough!" 

He took his seat at the table and poured another shot of rum.

**

__

Aboard the Pearl

Elizabeth felt her body jerk forward with the impact of the bullet, and wondered at the lack of pain. It was only when she hit the deck with Killian's arm loosening around her that she realized she hadn't been shot at all.

Killian's body struck the deck, and for a moment, Elizabeth thought perhaps he was dead, but even as she tore herself away from him, his eyes opened and he struggled to his feet. As he rose, one hand brushed a spot on his chest where the clothes had been torn by the force of the gunshot, but there wasn't nearly as much blood as there should have been.

Killian whirled to face the direction from which he'd been shot to Will Turner, gun still smoking in his hands, leaning heavily against the doorjamb. His eyes burned with rage as he stared at the man who'd dared threaten Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's attention followed Killian's. "Will!" She called to him, surprised and frightened by his sudden appearance. He shouldn't be out of bed! How could he stand? She moved to reach his side, but a firm hand on her arm held her back. Whirling, she found herself facing Anamaria.

"Shh!" The female pirate hushed the Governor's daughter. "We need to help him." She nodded her head towards Will, who obviously stood only through the sheer force of his determination. "And we'll never get by the commodore unnoticed."

"But" 

Anamaria shook her head. "Shh!" 

Elizabeth nodded and followed Anamaria.

*******

Will drew what strength he could from the knowledge that Elizabeth had not been hurt, and indeed appeared to have been forgotten by the Commodore. He glared at the pirate with rage in his eyes. Tossing the gun aside, he held up his other hand revealing a sword, which he held before him as though prepared to fight.

Killian laughed. "You can barely stand, boy! Surely, you don't think you can best me with a blade!"

Will drew himself slowly away from the doorjamb and took a slow step towards Killian. He didn't bother answering the man but instead saved his breath for the battle he anticipated.

Killian laughed again, but drew his own sword, brandishing it to distract the boy. Then he raised his gun, and was about to shoot when a blur of motion from his left flew into his gun hand knocking the pistol to the deck. 

The Commodore roared in rage as Trilby scurried out of his reach.

  
Will took another shaky step towards the Commodore when his attention remained on the hapless Trilby. He knew this would be a short fight, but he intended to keep the desperate man occupied at least until Jack returned. No matter what happened to him, Jack would find a way to protect Elizabeth. He was sure of it.

When Killian took a step towards Trilby, Will finally found enough breath for both standing and talking. "Would you walk away from my challenge then, Commodore, to race after an unarmed man who cannot harm you? Does the blade of a sick man scare you that much?"

Killian took the bait more from a desire to finish what he had started. He swung his sword at Will Turner.

Will managed to block the blow, but the force of it, combined with the dizziness that already plagued him made him stumble back a step.

Killian swung again pressing his advantage, but Will anticipated it. The block was not as graceful as it would have been in other circumstances, but a block was a block. The younger man advanced and pressed an attack of his own, only to find his arm shaking with the force of Killian's blows. He would not be able to keep up this pace for long. 

Will's arm trembled now just to hold the blade in position. Blocking took all of his concentration, and, as Killian stepped forward again and again, Will realized he was running out of places to which he might retreat. 

Gathering what strength he had left, Will backed towards the starboard rail, Killian anticipating his every move. Bringing his sword up to block another of Killian's swings, Will stared in shock at his empty hand as his blade was thrown from his grip by Killian's blow. He forced himself to look up at Killian as the Pirate laughed at him.

"Now, boy, I will take what I need."

Will watched as the Commodore reached inside his coat and drew out a familiar looking glowing box.

**

Elizabeth and Anamaria watched the duel. Elizabeth's anxiety rose with every clang and clatter of the swords. "We have to do something!"

"I know!" Anamaria drew her own cutlass, picked up a discarded mop and passed it to Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth scowled. "Can't I have a sword?"

Anamaria shook her head. "I don't have a spare one." She gestured for Elizabeth to follow her as they crept up behind Killian.

They had nearly reached the Commodore, when Elizabeth gasped. She saw Will lose his sword, and then saw the Commodore's box. "Will!" She cried as she desperately swung her mop.

**

__

In Town

Captain Jack Sparrow was lost in thought as he headed back to the Pearl. The closer he drew to the pier, the less he was able to stay lost in his thoughts. He grabbed a lad of no more than fifteen years as the boy ran away from the waterfront. "What's going on, mate?"

The boy squirmed to free himself, and only answered the question when he realized he couldn't. ""There be pirates boarding another pirate ship. Seen some men jump overboard. Seen a couple o'women on decks. Don't that beat all? Everyone knows it's bad luck to have a woman on board! Two is just crazy!"

"Women?" A familiar dread filled Jack's heart. " 'Ow many did you say?"

The boy shrugged. "Least two."

"What ship? What ship was it?" Even as Jack asked, he began to run, releasing the boy after the first few steps.

"The Pearl. The Black Pearl. She just arrived today'Ere, where're you goin'?"

Jack raced down the street dragging along any of his own men that he found on the way. He wasn't sure who dared board the Pearl, but he wouldn't let them get away with it.

  
To Be Continued

  
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	11. part 11

****

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 11 by Ecri

Jack managed to round up half of his landlocked crew as he raced towards the Pearl's berth. At first, he'd been walking quickly, but, as he drew closer and saw the figures on the deck engaged in battle, he broke into a run, his long strides eating up the distance to his ship. He'd seen Killian. Even from this distance, he recognized the monster. It was an image that came to him often enough in his dreams. He sprinted the last few yards to the Pearl. He would tolerate neither losing the Pearl to the likes of Killian, nor losing Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann to a bloodthirsty, vengeful monster with a failed supernatural ritual. 

Pushing that thought aside, he leaped from the docks to the Pearl's deck vaulting smoothly over the rail. He moved with an athletic grace and ease rarely seen in his normal sauntering, foppish gait, but there was no time now to act insane. This was the time to be insane. 

He could think of no better evidence of insanity that to rush headlong into a fight with the undead, but, on the other hand, he supposed was getting rather good at that.

As Jack neared the ship, he saw Killian looming menacingly before Will. He wasn't sure how Killian had survivedand he was less sure you could use that word to describe an undead pirate.

The Commodore's attention was focused solely on Will. Will, to Jack's unending surprise, was actually standing and holding a sword, albeit shakily. It was what Killian held, however, that caused Jack's heart to skip a beat. That box. The infernal thing was back! 

Frustration flooded through him at the thought of all that box had cost himall that it could still cost himand Jack would have thrown caution to the wind had he now possessed enough to throw anywhere. As he raced towards Will and Killian, he let loose a scream louder than any he had ever heard or uttered.

**

Elizabeth and Anamaria circled slowly behind Killian. Elizabeth's eyes roamed towards Will. She could see the exhaustion that plagued him and saw the tremble in his form. He would not last long if it was indeed Killian's intention to kill the Port Royal Blacksmith. Another intention seemed more likely, she realized, as Killian's hand held a strange box out towards Will.

  
From the look on Will's face, she knew what the box must be. She glanced at Anamaria. "We've got to help Will!" Franticly, she scanned the area looking for a way to help him, but it seemed unlikely when all she had as a weapon was a mop.

Anamaria turned towards her. "I'll go to the left and you to the right. He can't fight us all"

Elizabeth knew she would have said more, but a bloodcurdling howl swept over the Pearl, and the attention of every pirate aboard, save Will and Killian, turned to see the braided, beaded form of Captain Jack Sparrow as he hurled across the decks towards the two combatants.

Anamaria smiled. "It's Jack!"

Elizabeth shook her head. "It's Captain Jack Sparrow." She whispered the words, finally understanding the difference between Jack and The Captain. She only hoped either or both of them could help. Moving swiftly in the direction Anamaria had assigned to her, Elizabeth kept her eyes on Jack.

**

Will dared not glance away from Killian. He could still see the box from the corner of his eye, but it took all of his concentration to hold himself upright and still maintain a firm grip on his sword. The fresh salt air had helped at first, smelling sweet and clean and clearing the grogginess from his head, but now, perhaps compounded by the unaccustomed exertion, the sun had quickly drenched the still-recovering Blacksmith in sweat and the unrelenting heat seemed to sap what little strength he had. The stench of a sickroom clung to him. The fatigue in his muscles astonished and mortified him. He had been accustomed to long hours working at a forge, and to practicing with his blade for hours at a time. Feeling the tremble in his limbs and the intense concentration he needed to perform a task that had once been one of muscle memory rather than conscious thought made him feel a failure.

Wavering slightly as he took the smallest step back from Killian, Will felt his strength fading. The fight, such as it had so far been, had drained him. His eyes stung with sweat and sunlight, and the evil look on Killian's face told him the Commodore expected to win this battle.

He felt a surge of determination well up inside of him. He would not surrender to this evil man's whim. He had fought against the odds all his life and would not –could not–give up now just because defeat seemed more likely than victory. No. If not for his sake, then for Elizabeth's, he would fight. He would not have her see him give up for he could think of no more definitive failure than that. 

Slowly, by strength of will alone, Will Turner forced his recalcitrant limbs to still their tremors. Breathing deeply, he stood straight and tall, and though he did not know it, his eyes flashed in defiance of the fate this Pirate wished upon him.

Raising his sword, he gave his opponent a small salute and slight nod of the head before striking out with a strength he should not have possessed, that indeed, he had not possessed mere moments before.

Killian's shock showed plainly upon his face as he stepped back from the blow, his grip on his precious box fumbling awkwardly for a moment.

Will's eyes never left Killian's as the young man's long years of solitary practice reawakened his long unused skills. His feet moved of their own accord, keeping Killian immediately before him, while his blade found his target again and again.

It was Will's third blow that sent the box flying from Killian's hand and skittering across the deck. Grim satisfaction spilled forth from Will's smile, though he did not drop his attack to appreciate its results. Instead, he pressed his advantage.

**

Killian's attention was now divided half on Will Turner and his miraculous recovery and half on the box he so desperately had to reach. When he turned to check the box's location, Turner would step up his attack, and Killian would be forced to return his full attention to his own defense. When he felt sure enough to glance away again, something he knew well he should not do in any duel, Turner's blows would take on a ferocity unequaled.

Tiring of the game, Killian took a step towards Will, menace and rage in his eyes. "That will be your last mistake, boy!" 

Killian raised his sword and swung down knowing Will would deflect the blow. The moment he heard the clang of sword meeting sword, he pulled a wicked long knife from his belt and swung at Will's throat prepared to see the swell and spurt of deep red blood as he sliced through the blacksmith's artery. Once he lay dying upon the deck, Killian would seize the box and finish the ritual.

When the long knife connected with a solid thud, he turned in surprise to behold his knife imbedded in a mop handle. He blinked in shock and beheld another fierce gaze as Elizabeth Swann glared at him as though daring him to try again to kill the man she loved. Elizabeth yanked on the mop handle, breaking the startled Killian's grip, and, pulling the knife from the mop, she tossed the mop aside and brandished the knife at the Commodore.

He laughed. He raised his sword and was about to do just as the glare seemed to instruct him when he heard a familiar voice to his left and slightly behind him. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, mate. No tellin' what might 'appen."

Killian turned keeping his weapons where they were and found himself staring at Captain Jack Sparrow. The man stood far enough away that Killian would need to take more than a few steps to reach him, and in his hand, the Captain of the Black Pearl held a glowing box.

** 

Jack watched as Will Turner visibly forced his body to cease trembling. The boy hadn't been free of the tremors for more than a short while since he had come aboard the Pearl, but now he stood motionless before Killian, a look of menace and determination on his face. The lad looked the spitting image of the irate and overzealous blacksmith who had fought with him while racing through the rafters of the smithy back in Port Royal so long ago.

Since the moment they'd met, Will Turner had always found a way to surprise the pirate, and, honestly, it sometimes irked Jack. Now was not one of those times. Realizing that Will meant to fight–likely to the death, which was fine by Killian anyway since it was Will's life the cursed Commodore required–Jack couldn't help but whisper under his breath. "'E's yer own son, Bootstrap, head to toe. No doubt."

Seeing Elizabeth take Killian's knife, and Killian preparing to strike his next blow drove all thoughts of bloodlines from Jack's mind. Coming to a halt a few feet from Killian, he called out to the other pirate. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, mate. No tellin' what might 'appen."

He watched as Killian spun around to face him, noting out of the corner of his eye that Elizabeth and Will didn't relax their stances, though Anamaria did join them and stood by Elizabeth with her sword at the ready.

Jack had no time to notice anything else the trio was doing since Killian took a step towards him just then.

"Leave Will alone." Jack put every bit of confidence and arrogance he didn't feel into those words, counting on bluster and a touch of madness to carry what menace it would. For a touch of the dramatic, he widened his eyes a bit, and glared from behind the kohl at thisthis devil who could not seem to leave him alone. "I've 'ad enough of you, mate. If you promise to leave now, I'll let you go. Otherwise, I'll 'ave to kill you."

Will called out to Jack, his voice raspy from disuse, but loud enough to carry across the deck. "We can't let him go, Jack! He'll do this again!"

Exasperated at having his rescue interrupted, Jack glared at his friend. "As long as it's not to you, mate!"

"Jack! We can't"

Killian's laughter, loud and sinister, cut him off. "I will not leave him! I need him. Once begun, the ritual must continue. I started to take his life, so I must finish it or forfeit my claim!" The dead man's voice took on a startling tinge of insanity rivaling Jack's own.

"Forfeit? Go ahead, then, mate. We'll go with that one."

Killian snarled. "You can't save him! Don't you see? The ritual had gone too far by the time you interfered. My drugs, my incantations, the long period of minute exposure to the boxhe's mine!"

As he said the words, he moved imperceptibly closer to Jack, whose position had not changed. Then with a sudden lunge, Killian held out his hand–just that and nothing else–and to Jack's shock the box was torn from his grip to land gracefully in Killian's outstretched hand. A maniacal grin spread across the Commodore's features as he turned towards Will.

He held his hand out towards the blacksmith and the box began to glow even as Killian began to salivate in anticipation.

As soon as the box was closer to the lad, Killian opened it with a flick of his wrist. The glow inside was pulsing in time to a loud repeated drumminga drumming that Jack realized was Will's amplified heartbeat, though how the sound could be so loud, the Pirate couldn't guess. Will cried out, and his sword fell from his nerveless hand as his knees buckled. He managed to stay on his knees, frantically waving Elizabeth away as soon as she'd started towards him.

**

Elizabeth heard Killian's words as he spoke to Jack, but her eyes were transfixed by the sight of Will still struggling to stand. Reaching out to him, she was surprised at Will's vehemence as he waved her away. He would accept no help from her. She knew he feared for her safety, but honestly, sometimes he was simply too much!

She felt her own ire rise. She had not fought pirates and the undead–yet again!–to be pushed aside now! "Will, let me help you!" She hoped he heard the love and concern in her request, but if requests did not work, she was quite prepared to use demands.

Before she could say another word, however, Anamaria got her attention and nodded towards two pirates who were coming up behind Jack. There was little time to go to his aide, so Elizabeth hefted the knife in her hand and, holding it by the blade, brought it back over her shoulder. Throwing it with all her might, she was more surprised than anyone when it struck one of the men soundly in his sword arm piercing flesh and muscle. Before the man could fall, Trilby, having found the last bit of nerve he possessed hiding behind the overwhelming fear within his heart, raced at the man and picked up the sword that had clattered upon the deck the moment Elizabeth's blade had skewered the man's arm. He held it menacingly out at the second man forcing him and a few of his braver compatriots to step back and allow Sparrow and Killian's confrontation.

Elizabeth sighed in relief, but it was short lived as the exchange between Jack and Killian again drew her attention. She'd lost track of the conversation, but luckily. Jack seemed determined to provide the vital information by questioning Killian's words.

**

Jack stared at Killian. "You're sayin' 'e's already given you some of 'imself, aren't ye? That his life is partially yours already. That's why you're still" he stopped himself from saying alive, but wasn't sure what term would serve.

Killian's laughter, tinged even more heavily than before with insanity, rang across the deck sending chills through the bodies of anyone who heard. "You were trying to cure him, weren't you?" He laughed even louder. "You were trying to ease the addiction to the drugs! It can't be done! His addiction was only the beginning. By my reckoning, I've gained a good ten years from him already!" 

Jack's eyes widened, but he spoke in a soft whisper to himself. "That's why he's been so tired. Interesting." His mind was working frantically for a solution to this, for he held strongly to one belief above all others. There was a way out of any situation. Sometimes it was obvious. Sometimes you had to search frantically for it. Then there were the times like these where nothing was obvious, searching seemed of no avail, and any stupid idea that popped into your head could well save you from having your life force drained from your body by a mystical box and a cursed undead pirate. 

As Jack pondered these things, Killian turned to the trembling boy kneeling once again upon the deck though still staring up at him defiantly. "This is too precious! The defiance right up to the end!" He approached Will and reached out the hand that still gripped his sword until the flat of the blade caressed the boy's cheek too lightly to do damage, yet firmly enough to reinforce the idea that Killian was in control here and would do as he pleased with the boy. "It can't be done, boy." He whispered in a tone that sent chills through anyone who heard it. "You're mine already."

  
Will just glared up at the man, rage and frustration in equal measures upon his face.

Jack took in all of this, and, coming up with no better plan despite reasoning, pleading, and cajoling any and all omnipotent beings who might be in the vicinity, he threw himself forward and wrestled Killian to the ground. "Not 'appenin'. 'E's. Not. Yours!" Tearing the box from the Commodore's hand he tossed it aside. 

Breaking Killian's grip on the thing seemed to make him all the more frantic, as if the touch of it had been all that anchored the Commodore to reality. An inhuman screech emanated from Killian as he hit Jack in desperation. 

  
Jack blocked easily as the Commodore's eyes searched the deck for his precious possession. The Captain of the Black Pearl threw himself at his lifelong enemy and the two became a mass of tangled limbs as each struggled to rise first and keep the other down. Jack drew his sword, and held it against Killian's throat. "You 'aven't been invited aboard, mate. You'd best be going."

"I want what's mine!" Killian roared with eyes wide and face red.

A small strange smile graced Jack's face. "That's fine, but 'e ain't yours!"

With a strength Jack wouldn't have believed if he'd heard tell of it, Killian tossed Jack away from him escaping the Pirate Captain's blade and scrambling backwards to scoop up the discarded box. Triumphantly, he whirled to face Will Turner, who was getting shakily to his feet.

Before Killian could make a single threatening gesture or word, Captain Jack Sparrow moved quickly and stood before his friend, shielding the younger man from the Undead Pirate's view. He raised his sword in one hand and held his pistol in the other, both pointing steadily at his adversary.

Killian seethed. "Jack! I taught you to be a Pirate! I taught you what can happen to you if you displease me! Move aside, Sparrow! You forget your place!"

Sparrow nodded as though agreeing. "Aye, I did for awhile, but I've recently been reminded of it. Just as always, it's here between you and a man named Turner." 

Without another word and with no warning whatsoever, Jack lunged for the Commodore and ran his blade through Killian's black heart. As Killian fell, his face frozen in surprise, Jack twisted the blade viciously, not blinking an eye when blood spurted violently from the wound. With a powerful yank, he withdrew the blade not at all surprised to see the rougue's heart still skewered upon it. Black and beating it was, and in the direct sunlight it began to pulse in time to the light within the box that was still clutched in Killian's hand. After only a few moments, the heart began to smolder before crumbling to ash and blowing away with the wind.

Jack stared speechless at the blade as the last bit of blood blackened to ash and drifted away on the dying breeze. Looking down at the body, he watched much the same transformation as what had mere moments ago been as flesh and blood became a pile of greasy looking soot upon the decks. Glancing about at his crew, he called out to them as they came out of their various hiding places, though each was pretending a bravery he had not displayed as they herded what was left of Killian's men together. 

Just when Sparrow thought the danger was over, the box, sitting atop a bit of the ash, shook slightly. The pulsing light from within gained speed until it was a steady glow. Then a bolt as bright as lightning leaped from the box and straight towards Will Turner. Though Jack stood between box and blacksmith, the bolt found no hindrance there, though whether it went through or around him somehow, Jack was never certain. 

Striking Will squarely upon the chest, the light caused Will's body to glow and convulse. Will took in a breath as it hit as he again tumbled down to land upon his knees. Before he could fall face first upon the deck of the Pearl, Jack caught him having dropped his weapons to do so. When the light faded, the box shimmered and disappeared

Sparrow stared in concern at the lad, not sure at first if he was breathing and deciding he was not at the precise moment that Will took in a sharp breath as though breaking through the surface of the ocean after too many minutes beneath it.

"Will?" Jack whispered afraid his friend might not be behind those pain-filled eyes. He'd seen men go through less and keep breathing but lose all mobility, strength, and capacity for thought. The idea that Will might join the ranks of such men seized Jack's heart with a pain he'd never thought to feel again. "Will? Are you with us, lad?"

Will blinked and looked up at Jack confusion clear upon his face, though Jack was relived to see intelligence in those brown eyes. "Jack? Is itover? Isis itdone?"

Jack smiled at his friend–the son of his friend–and counted himself lucky to have known both William Turner the Older and William Turner the Younger. "Aye, lad. That it is."

  
"Whatwhat was that? What happened?" Will spoke softly and with great difficulty.

Jack shifted him a bit so he'd be a bit more comfortable until Jack could be sure that Will could be moved. "The boxthe ritual was never finished. I think it must have given you back whatever years it had drained from you."

"Can it do that?" Elizabeth's voice sounded from behind Will, and Jack looked up surprised to see the depth of uncertainty and fear in the eyes of a woman he usually considered confident and courageous.

Jack considered the question and shrugged. "I'd like to think so, love. Any other explanation doesn't bear thinking about."

Will's breath was coming back to him and he could feel his lungs expanding properly now and with less pain. He reached back towards the sound of Elizabeth's voice. Glancing over to her, he waited for her to take his hand. She did so immediately, frightened eyes scanning his pale form for signs of new injuries or distress.

Sparrow was often surprised at the depth of love and devotion he read in Will's eyes whenever Port Royal's finest Blacksmith looked at or spoke of Port Royal's Governor's daughter. He clucked at them faintly. "Tut, now, you little lovebirds! Let's get you back to the cabin, Will. You need to rest after that_." For I've got news for you that might take the wind out of yer sails, so to speak,_ Sparrow thought as he pondered ways to tell Will about his father.

He stood easing Will to his feet, surprised at the strength the boy now possessed. His guess must have been more right than he had known. Killian's words about the ritual having been interrupted but not actually reversed had chilled his blood the way only learning that Bootstrap had been flung into the sea tied to a cannon had done before. 

It had certainly explained why Will's recovery had been so slow and arduous, and why it had seemed so much worse than Bootstrap's own illness. He'd gotten to Bootstrap Bill long before the ritual had begun. With effort, he cut off his thoughts. He did not have the strength now to consider exactly the chain of events that had taken place on Scratch all those years ago. Not now. He hoped not ever, but the memory of it, and the recent talk from Ol' Joe had resurrected thoughts he'd long thought buried.

He occupied his time with helping Elizabeth settle Will back into his bed. Will, who felt much better, was actually just shaky enough to allow the ministrations of his friends without too much complaint. 

**

Elizabeth watched as Will drifted off to sleep. His exhaustion was plain, but he seemed so much more himself that she wanted to weep in relief. She would not allow a tear to fall, however, for she was afraid the sound of it might wake him. She would save her tears for her own pillow.

Sitting near to his bed, lightly holding his hand in her hands, her thoughts strayed to how empty her life would have been if this had ended badly. Right now, Will was the only important thing in her life. She realized she hadn't thought of Port Royal much in the last few days, or of her father, and it was that sudden insight that sent a wave of guilt washing over her. How could she have so completely discarded any thought of what had become of her father? How could she have spared not a bit of concern over the wellbeing of everyone and everything that had been a part of her life for so long?

  
Even as she asked herself the questions, she knew the answers. Will was her everything. With him, she had the strength to ask herself such things. Without him, she worried only for him, thought only of him, wished only to be by his side.

She had known it when she'd first found him, but had not admitted it to herself until he'd come after her to save her from Barbossa's crew. It was while being held by that Cursed Crew, that Elizabeth had found her thoughts straying again and again to Will. Why else would she have given his name as her own? She had been afraid she'd never see him again, and when he had appeared there in that cavern to save her, she'd been astonished. Fighting by his side, fighting to save him when their positions had been reversed, she had promised herself she would never be separated from him again. Killian had made her break that promise once, but she vowed she would not let it happen again. She would help him recover from this ordeal. She would be by his side for all the days of her life.

Gently, she brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes, and, standing, she moved closer to his side and kissed him lightly on the forehead. It was a sign of his exhaustion that even this did not wake him.

She got up then and moved to the door. She was sharing space with Anamaria, and had promised the woman she would not stay up too late.

  
As she opened the door and slipped out, she turned back to see Will, sleeping a healing sleep. She smiled. He would be well, so she would be, no matter what else happened before this voyage was over.

**

As night descended, and the crew of the Black Pearl, carefully removed all trace of soot and ash from stem to stern of their beloved ship, Captain Jack Sparrow stood upon the deck staring at the moon. Bright and beautiful as he'd only seen it in the Caribbean, the moon's light seemed to beckon to the sailor's soul as the warm evening breezes, kissed by the scents of oleander and rum, pulled playfully at Jack's braids, beads, and bangles.

He closed his eyes thinking to block the sight would block the call, but it didn't work, and he hadn't truly expected it would. Will was asleep, as was Elizabeth. She had worked herself to a frazzle worrying over her blacksmith, but in the end, he'd been in better shape than any of them had expected. Surely, he wasn't exactly himself, but Jack suspected a good night's rest would put him well on the road to recovery.

He'd put Killian's men ashore with little further incident, telling them they had best not cross him again or he would see them dead. After seeing what had happened to Killian, there was little in the way of fight left in them.

Still anchored, the Pearl would remain in its berth until its Captain said otherwise. Though his crew was anxious to set out and put the events of the last day or so behind them, Captain Jack Sparrow didn't give a single order that usually led to the Pearl's departure from port. 

Part of the reason for his reluctance to depart gnawed at him now, and he was unable to put it out of his mind. He knew he must lay a choice before the pair of reunited lovebirds still stinging from their most recent harrowing experiences. He felt an obligation to these two that he thought he should resent, but that he found was simply becoming a part of him, like the freedom he found on the horizon, and the love he felt for the Pearl. They would have to know all he knewor at least as much as he might be willing to tell them. They would have to decide if they wished him to return them to Port Royal to find Elizabeth's father and learn the fate of their home, or if they preferred to accompany him on a search for Bootstrap Bill. 

  
Either choice, or both, could prove fruitless. That Port Royal had been devastated by Killian's raid upon her shores could not easily be forgotten. Even if they might have done so, rumors and innuendo about the raid had flooded through every bar in port. Every one of his crew who had been ashore had learned another variation of the tale, each one more unbelievable than the last.

Opening his eyes again, and taking in the sight of the moon's reflection upon the sea, Jack pondered the things he would have to explain to Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann, and, sighed. "This tale ain't quite ended, Bootstrap, and where ye might be, and 'ow it might endthat's something I won't even try to imagine."

To Be Continued

ao_hoshi: Here's what happens!

hpdancer92: Thanks!

jack the pirate: I tried to keep it upthe action and suspense I mean. I hope you liked it!

  
Emiri-chan: Wow! Such enthusiasm! LOL! I won't answer your specific questions because you'll just have to read to find out. I know that's mean of me, but what can I sayauthors are like that! (As I am sure you know!)

  
Rachel the insane unicorn: Yes, and he's even better now! Will's recovery is finally speeding up! Can't have an action hero out of action for too longthey get depressed! (Of course, angst can be fun, but it can be overdone, too!)

Ariana Deralte: Yes, you aren't the first to mention that about the Keelhauling. I went back and fixed it, or thought I did, but then I realized I must have only vividly imagined doing that. I think it's fixed now. I do hope it didn't throw you out of the story too much. That's what I get for using a dictionary for a quick reference rather than properly researching. From now on, I will triple check my facts. (I don't want to use the figures unless I have three sourcesoh, um, sorry. Quoting the West Wing in a POTC fic is probably too crossover-ish to bear repeating.)

Yugi-chan aka Yami Rose: Why did I stop? Why do any of us stop with cliffhangers? To make sure our readers want to come back. At least I was much more timely with my update this time! BTW, anticliffie spray is like mosquito spray. It only attracts what it claims to repel!

Unplugged32 aka Chris: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying the plot twists and Will angst! I'm going to try to work in a bit of Jack angst as well. As for the plot twists, some of them are surprising me. This was meant to be only about 6 or 7 chapters, but seems to have taken on a life of its own!

Wellduh: Okay!

KawaiiRyu: I think you intimidated my muse. It's been much more cooperative lately! Thanks! I'm glad you like the story!

Voldemortsucks18: Superduper awesome? Wow! Thanks! I'm overjoyed that you think it was worth the wait. I've tried to keep the swashbuckling going a bit. I hope you liked it!

Catherinexxix: Wow! All ten? Fabulous! I hope you like chapter 11! Thanks for the flattering review. You've made me proud.

Scarlett Burns: Thanks for the great review! On the edge of your seat, great plot, and in character are some of my favorite phrases! LOL!

Steff7: I'm glad you liked it!


	12. pt 12

****

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.

Sorry this took so long. I seem to have lost a few readers here and there, so I guess that's what I get for taking so long between updates.

  
For those who did review, thanks! I've replied as usual at the end. Your reviews keep me going and I am grateful that you each took the time to send one.

Now on to

A Pirate's Life and Death part 12 by Ecri

The sea was still and serene. Light from the full moon painted a broad streak of luminescence across the midnight waters giving an ethereal glow to the surface. Far from mysterious, however, the sight was beautiful to behold, and, to the two figures also bathed in that moonlight, it had a soothing affect.

Will Turner breathed deeply, relishing the act though at the same time appalled that a deep breath had become something so rare and unusual for him that he would take the time to notice it at all, let alone savor the act and its effects. In truth he had little clear memory of his illness or his recovery. His thoughts had centered first on desperation to free Elizabeth, then on failure when she was sold, and finally on despair as he realized he was ill and growing weaker for, in such a state, he could not hope to find and free Elizabeth.

The clean, fresh air, the tang of salt from the sea, having Elizabeth, whole and healthy by his side all seemed more of a blessing than he ever could have imagined. He reached then for her hand and drew her closer to him, enjoying the way she seemed to fit in his arms and overjoyed at the chance again to fit into her life just as well.

She breathed deeply as if trying to inhale the very essence of the man who held her, and he smiled at the thought, for he often found her own scent intoxicating.

It felt almost like a dream to him that they now stood in each other's arms. "I love you, Elizabeth."

"I love you, too, Will."

His heart skipped a beat to hear those words, and he smiled though she couldn't see it. Their life in Port Royal seemed so far away. For him, she was all that existed. So deep inside this moment had he fallen, that it took several minutes for him to notice Jack, who, having tended to the necessities of putting out of port, now stood beside the young couple.

"Will, Elizabeth" he hesitated, thinking over his words, but finding no other way to put them, spoke as bluntly and succinctly as possible, and stood before his friends waiting for their reply. 

Will's eyes were as wide as saucers as he looked at Elizabeth and then back to Jack. "You believe this? You think my father is alive?"

Jack shrugged. "I'd 'ate to say 'e is, but I can't say 'e isn't. Bootstrap Bill was always a stubborn fellow." The pirate grinned at the younger man. "A lot like another young William Turner I've gotten to know." The smile faded as he shrugged again. "All I know for certain is that Ol' Joe wouldn'ta made that up. Bill was there to see 'im and to pick upsomething 'esomething Joe was 'oldin' onto. Bill was there

Elizabeth interrupted impatiently. "Why are we even debating this? If there's the slightest chance Will's father is alive"

Will remained silent, and, though Jack answered Elizabeth, his own eyes never strayed from the lad's as though he sought some hint of the turnings of Turner's mind. 

"You don't know what you're saying, lass. I'll need to 'ear it from 'im before I set course."

Elizabeth drew herself up and her eyes blazed in indignation. "If you're implying that I am in some way ignorant"

With a wave and a flourish and a dramatic roll of his eyes, Jack cut off her words. Staring at the girl as though he wondered how she'd gotten aboard his ship to begin with, he spoke loudly. "I'm not implyin' I'm sayin' it straight out, love." When she would have interrupted him in return, he held up a hand staying her words. "'Ear me out! It ain't ignorance born of stupidity but ignorance born of" he rolled his eyes and looked heavenward as if the word he sought might be written in the sky. "wellof unfamiliarity. Face it, Love, you don't know what a search for a long presumed dead pirate might mean, now do you?" He put his arm around her shoulders and spoke in a low, soft tone as if confiding in her.

"Elizabeth, my sweet, a proper search could take monthsas we 'ave little to go on. I know only what Ol' Joe told me. Trying to trace Bootstrap's steps–a path gone cold years ago!–'twill beat best. If we're years looking for ol' Bootstrap"

Realization hit Elizabeth. "Then I might never know what happened to my father."

"Now you're getting' it!" 

Jack smiled triumphantly and stepped back from Elizabeth. She stared at nothing, her eyes fixed on something in her thoughts. Shaking her head she turned towards the captain and gripped his arms tightly enough to draw his attention to her grip. "If we did it the other wayif we went to Port Royal first, how long a delay in the search would there be?"

Jack smiled. "There's no way of knowin' that, love. If we get there and your father's well and Port Royal is only half as torn apart as we assumed, I imagine I could set sail again almost immediately. If Governor Swann is missingwell, then, you tell me. 'ow long do we look for one father before we abandon the search in favor of another? That aside, 'ow long could me and me crew stay near Port Royal and assume we wouldn't find our necks in imminent danger of being stretched?"

**

Elizabeth didn't answer Jack's question. She knew he didn't expect one, and she was much too concerned for Will to go through the trouble of keeping up the conversation. She could see the myriad warring emotions in Will's eyes as he grappled to come to terms with this most astonishing of suppositions. Hope, fear, anxiety, love for a man he had never met, trepidation that such a meeting might dash his hopes if William Turner, Sr. was not the sort of man Will could respectshe hated seeing him so unsure. 

Elizabeth felt overwhelmed by the choice before them. To abandon any chance of learning her father's fate, to abandon any chance of seeing him again, for, if he had been hurt in Killian's raid, he might even now be dying if he were not already dead She cut the thought short and schooled her features carefully in case Will might be looking at her. She risked a glance at him, but he seemed entranced by something on the deck of the Pearl.

She turned to Jack. "Can you find Bootstrap if we search for him now?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say. According to Ol' Joe, it was five long years ago that Bill came to see 'im. A child born in that selfsame year would now be walkin' and talkin'. A dog born in that selfsame year would be older than Will here by a long shot in dog yearsand a scotch born in that selfsame yearmight not yet be fit to drink, so that would be a bad example. Still, it's a long time as things of that sort go" Jack trailed off and looked at Will, all hint of instability and capriciousness evaporating in the blink of an eye. "What do you say, mate? Do we go and look for your old dad?"

Will looked up sharply at those words. "My old dad?" He rolled the words around on his tongue as though it felt odd to be saying them. "II don't know" 

Jack sighed. "Whatever you decide, mate, that isif you choose to go to Port Royal, I'll take you there, sure enough, butI'll be off soon after to find 'im. I owe 'im that much. I'll send word to you. I promise. I may not be able to come to you myself, but I'll get word, somehow, to Port Royal."

Port Royal. The name conjured for Elizabeth images bright with color and alive with laughteruntil she remembered the smoldering ruin it had seemed when last she had last seen it. Her father, Norrington, her neighbors and friends, people with whom she had grown from a small childwhat had become of them? 

Her doubts were mirrored in Will's eyes as he looked to her, and shoved aside his own desire to search for his father. She saw him square his shoulders and draw himself up as he turned to Jack. "Port Royal, Jack. Take us home." She opened her mouth to protest, but Will turned to her then in that moment and she saw that he did not have the strength to argue. 

Hardly able to look either Elizabeth or Jack in the eye, Will pleaded fatigue and retired to his bed, or rather, to Jack's bed, for the Pirate captain would not allow Will to sleep upon hammock or deck until he was sure his friend was recovered.

  
Elizabeth was grateful for that as she was grateful to Will for putting her own father before his, her own desires to see what had been done to her home above his lifelong desire to find answers about the man who had sired him.

When he'd gone, Elizabeth stared at the water, her thoughts as dark as the ocean floor at its deepest depths. 

Will Turner was recovering and for that she was overjoyed. Even Jack was astonished at his rapid improvement, and, while Will tired more quickly than he once had, his malady was truly the withdrawal from the drugs Killian had given him on the long voyage to Scratch.

In truth, Elizabeth was certain that Will was keeping the worst of it from her. They had not been long out of port, but he seemed reluctant to speak to her. He seemed also to tell her he was just fine' whenever she asked, though she was sure his fatigue and short-temper were direct results of his withdrawal. 

She'd been surprised at Jack's haste to leave port, but not at his kindness in taking Trilby aboard. The older man had been afraid to stay behind even though Jack had assured him that Killian must, in fact, be dead. Trilby had pleaded for a spot aboard the Pearl, and, thought Jack had made a great show of mulling it over and considering the pros and cons, she had known by the twinkle in his eye that he would agree. 

  
She shuddered, a chill racing up her spine though the Caribbean air was warm. Trilby's concern that Killian would return from the grave to exact some sort of retribution upon him for his part in Will's escape had given her pause. If Killian had any cause to seek retribution, she knew there would be quite a few names upon his list well before Trilby's made an appearance. The thought of all that Will had been through troubled her, but it was the decision Jack had laid before them that worried her most. 

She had watched Will's face as Jack explained that Bootstrap Bill might still be alive. That his father might have survived had never occurred to Will. That, at least, was plain from the look in his eyes. She knew that the assumption of his death at the bottom of the ocean strapped to a cannon had haunted him in dream and in thought. He would not tell her, but she knew some part of him felt responsible for that death. To think now that it was possible he had not met such an endshe had seen the hope in his eyes, and the leap of his heart at the very concept. She had noted a yearning in his eyes, and, she assumed, deep in his soul that he himself likely had not known he possessed until the possibility appeared.

Will would never put his own desires above hers. Even when it might have seemed to himself that he had when he'd sought help from an incarcerated pirate to locate a missing Governor's daughter, it had still been more in her own best interests than in his. He had walked away from his life, his trade, and had even jeopardized his good name and what hard-won respect he had earned by associating with criminals and helping Jack steal a ship. 

Will could easily, had Norrington or her father been so inclined, have lost his life, been hung by Jack's side, or been forced to join the crew of the Pearl in a life of piracy in order to avoid a lengthy prison stay for his troubles. 

Will was the sort who would always chose to do for others over himself, and while she loved him for it, she also found it impossible to give in to it in this instance.

Determination flooded Elizabeth as she pressed her lips into a hard, grim line. Whirling around, she faced the wheel where Jack stood, steering his ship with a nonchalance about him that belied the life and death decisions he seemed forced to make every day.

Walking over to him, she put into her voice all the insistencesome might say haughtinessof a Governor's Daughter accustomed to having her every wish become a command. "Jack Sparrow"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow" He insisted automatically.

Elizabeth brushed away the words. "I know what Will said. I know he asked you to take us home, but" She hesitated and that hesitation irritated her more than anything Jack might have said. Shaking away her doubts, she spoke again. This time, however, she spoke with more confidence and regal bearing. "I want you to find Bootstrap Bill. Whatever it takes, whatever happens, Will needs to find his fatheror at least know for certain if he is alive or not." She watched Jack, but the pirate was still looking out towards the horizon. "Well?" She prompted.

"Well what?"

"We need to go after Will's father! Turn this boat around."

  
"Ship."

"What?" 

  
"Ship. The Black Pearl is a ship not a boat. I'll thank you to remember that." He shrugged and one hand seemed to trace figure eights in the air for no discernible reason. "'Course, you can't even remember that I'm the Captain, so I don't suppose you'll remember that."

"Jack Sparrow! I'll have you know I grew up with close ties to the Royal Navy! I know more than you think about boats!"

"Ah! See thereforgot both again, didn't ye? It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, and this is a _ship_!" He shook his head as though secretly bemoaning her stupidity.

"Jack!"

He smiled at her putting his hand down and looking her disconcertingly in the eye. "It might be best for both of you to go 'ome for a bit. He's still recovering, and youwell, you're a bit worse for wear, aren't you, girl?" He waved absentmindedly in the direction they were sailing. "Besides, we've only got rumor and pirate gossip to tell us what 'appened in Port Royal after you were taken by thatpirate." He'd seemed about to say something else but looked pointedly at Elizabeth. This was a lady after all. A Governor's daughter, not a pirate's bed warmer.

Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him. "All right, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow!" She spat his chosen title at him. "Turn this _ship_ around and go after Bootstrap Bill. Now!"

"You don't know what you're askin'. Will understood. That's why he said to take you to Port Royal."

"I understand more than you think! I am certainly not addle-minded enough to misunderstand it once it's been explained!" She glared at him infuriated when it only seemed to bring a smile to his lips. "Find Bill Turner. I don't care how and I don't care how long it takes! Turn this bloody contraption around and follow your five-year-old clue until you find one quite a bit younger! Do you hear me, Jack Sparrow?"

Jack, still smiling, shook his head, but not, as she assumed, in negation of her request. "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, love. Try to remember that." He turned to Gibbs who stood slightly above and to the left of them. "Gibbs! Turn 'er about! We're off on a search!"

Gibbs didn't even bat an eye, seemingly expecting such a change in orders. "Aye, Cap'n."

Jack grinned at Elizabeth. "I'm only doin' as you ask, because it's the course I'd have chosen myself."

  
Elizabeth smiled back. "Of course, _Captain_."  


**

The waves pounded the shoreline, but, though rougher than normal, the sea was not yet angry enough to cause any real damage. 

A man sat on the beach tossing stones into the sea wondering if the approaching storm might simply toss them back to dry in the sand once Poseidon calmed and called the waters back. He was too seasoned a seaman to ignore the early signs of approaching weather. 

The weather had chased him and the small pirate ship on which he served to seek the relative shelter of this pitiful port. He'd seen it before, he knew, for it seemed vaguely familiar. Then again, all pirate-friendly ports looked much the same.

The wind whipped up a bit, tossing his long brown hair around his face. He'd need to find shelter himself in an hour or so, but for now, his depression at not finding what he sought kept his limbs still though his mind urged them to rise and walk to the bar. A bit of rum wouldn't go amiss, but somehow he couldn't face it. 

His search had proved fruitless. He'd thought himself hot on the trail. When he'd started looking for his friend all those years ago, he'd assumed it would be just a matter of time. Years, it had taken him, but he finally found himself seriously considering that his friend was long dead, no matter what the rumors claimed. No, he was dead and perhaps forgotten. Maybe not even buried properly. He wasn't a religious man, but he held some thoughts sacred, and that was that a man deserved a decent burial, whether at sea or elsewhere, a man's bones shouldn't just lie where they fell to be bleached by the harsh sun. 

He shuddered at the thought, but there was little he could do that he hadn't done already. It seemed he was doomed not to be there for those he most cared for. His own family was likely dead now, for he'd heard nary a word from his wife and child for years. He'd heard the Influenza had hit his hometown hard a few years back. His child might well be dead from it. Even with what little money he could send home, he knew his wife could not afford more than squalor.

Salt spray hit his face. The sea was telling him things his brain would not admit. It was time to seek shelter. He rose slowly, slightly cramped from the overlong time in one position, and headed back to the little town, such as it was. The town was so poor it made Tortuga look like London. Shelters–for house' was too fine a word for such structures–seemed unlikely to hold back the wind and rain he knew was coming. A few in particular seemed to be leaning on each other for support like pirates leaving a bar in the early hours of the morning.

He didn't bother greeting even those few passers-by that he knew. He'd given up on forming friendships, even with his shipmates. He didn't want any more friends.

Walking into the bar, whose name seemed to have something to do with pigs, though the sign was mostly obscured by age and neglect, he sat down and ordered rum. Tossing it all back in one swallow as soon as the barman placed it before him gesturing for a refill a moment later.

Blinking in surprise, the barman poured another at the man's gesture.

"Aye, it's good to have a bit of the spirits when a storm approaches. This one looks bad." The barman eyed his new customer not finding him at all familiar. "Did you come ashore with the _Brazen Lady_?"

The man nodded, but offered nothing else.

The barman moved off to serve other customers, and the man found himself staring into his glass wondering how he'd managed to lose his family, his best friend, and his hope in so short a period of time. 

**

Captain Jack Sparrow watched the sunrise on the far horizon. The play of colors and growing glow of light in the nearly cloudless sky was breathtaking, and the reflection of the sun in the mirror of the sea was doubly so. Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such a sight. He didn't often have the time to enjoy such things. He was usually running for his life or for someone else's.

He was as happy as could be that Elizabeth had been determined enough, for Will's sake, to search for the senior Turner. He hadn't been lying when he'd said that was the course he'd have chosen himself. Truth was, he wasn't in any hurry to get back to Port Royal. He wasn't sure what sort of reception he'd have there, but he wasn't willing to assume they'd simply let him approach merely because he had the Governor's daughter and the town blacksmith aboard. It was just as likely they'd accuse him of something. Stealing, pillagingand sure he wouldn't be above taking what he could for the benefit of his crew and the upkeep of his ship, but he'd just as soon not cross Norrington's path again. The man seemed determined to see Captain Jack Sparrow hang, and that, in Jack's mind, far outweighed any reasons in favor of visiting the Jamaican port.

Thinking of Port Royal led him once more to think of Will Turner. The lad had embraced piracy when necessary, and, though Jack was certain his father's blood was strong in him, the pirate couldn't help but wonder if he had too much moral fiber to follow in Bootstrap's footsteps. Of course, Bootstrap, in the beginning hadn't been a willing pirate. He'd joined a pirate crew out of necessity rather than choice, though some, like young Will, might argue that there was always a choice. 

Jack smiled. Of course, if that were so, then Will _chose_ to be a pirate when he first broke Jack out of Port Royal's prison and helped him to commandeer a vessel capable of going after Barbossa and the Black Pearl.

The first of the sun's rays reached tenuously into the sky obscuring the light of thousands of stars as they receded from view. Even as one part of Jack's mind registered the change, another part had plunged deep into memories he'd long left alone.

Choices. It all came down to choices. Will chose, even if only for a short time, to be a pirate just as his father had made a clear choice all those years agothough, the choice had been piracy or starvation. Jack knew few things that could persuade a man to sidestep his own convictions like said man's own imminent demise.

He hadn't thought about any of this in years. He wondered if it was because he'd looked up Ol' Joe and talked with him, however briefly, about Nick and Bill, or because the idea that Bill might yet be alive drove his memories to the surface of a mind already crowded with too much to consider.

Whatever the reason, he found it impossible to stop thinking such thoughts. Though he stared straight ahead and steered the Pearl, it was instinct that kept her steady as her captain's eyes were focused not on the gentle current before him, but on the years and the decisions behind him.

__

"Are ye daft, William Turner!" The older man looked down at the younger, barely aware that a third man, hardly more than a boy, stood nearby watching everything but saying nothing.

William Turner looked slightly to the left of the older man to lock eyes with his long time friend, Jack Sparrow. The boy only shrugged not intending to get into this argument. Nick and William argued like this every few days. 

Jack watched his two friends. William was a good deal older than he was though none of them was certain of his exact age. The nearest the threesome could put it was mid- to late twenties, and Nick, the oldest of the trio as near as they could determine, was within a year or two of that figure himself. They'd met courtesy of Killian and had long been pirates together.

Nick was furious with William now because it seemed he was once again considering the impossible.

"Bootstrap Bill Turner," Nick spoke slowly and carefully infusing each word with intensity and menace. "You're a pirate, mate, and ye can't go back on a life like that."

William shook his head. "I've got to. Don't you see? I admit to the wrongdoingthe piracyand that this way of life seemed to bring me alive when I first took to it, but I can't say I agree with the way Killian runs 'is fleet! The longer we're out with 'im the bloodier the raids get. That last ship," he looked Nick in the eye, willing the man to understand. "The Commodore sunk it because she didn't carry as much as 'e expected!"

Nick nodded, and Jack could tell William's words made an impact. The three of them had spoken before about Killian's penchant for blood and his seeming unquenchable thirst for mayhem, murder, and mutilation. No longer willing to sit out the argument, Jack spoke in a soft tone that seemed even more arresting than usual because of his stillness. "What would you do, William? Would you go 'ome? Do you think you can put it all behind you?" Now he moved, approaching his friend, his eyes locked on William Turner's. "Can you live on land and forsake the sea?"

William stared at Jack and Jack held his breath. He knew what William meant. He had a wife and a son somewhere in England, and, as the years went on, Jack could see the regret in William's eyes that he wasn't there for his son. He'd been a pirate for many a year when he'd met the lass that was to bear his child. Jack was never certain if William had told the girl he was a pirate, but he somehow doubted it.

Jack had assumed it was just another girl, but William seemed to talk about her a great deal, and had even sent letters home with money when he could, and occasionally a present or two for the lad who had to be all of three years old by now. 

William's own father had been a merchant seaman, and had never been home. William had told him once, when they'd both had too much to drink, that he'd always imagined he'd be a better father. Jack suspected William Turner wanted to go back to her–to them–but that Bootstrap Bill Turner wouldn't allow it. It was the siren song of the sea versus the longtime wish to have a traditional family life.

Jack saw the war his friend waged with himself, and he wasn't sure what choice he would now make. He did know that if William chose family over piracy, Jack would do all he could to help the man find his way back home to England if it meant handing over his own share of the profits until there was enough money for the trip.

William stood then, drawing himself up to his full height, which was not inconsiderable. Then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders bent as though bearing an unbearable weight. 

Jack knew then what choice his friend would make.

Thinking back, Jack supposed that things would have turned out drastically different had Killian not tried to steal William's life with his bizarre ritual. The Commodore's plans had interrupted William's own, and William's recovery had been fraught with its own perils andinterruptions. 

In some ways, the older Turner had fared better than the younger, and in some ways the reverse was true. Will's improvement had been slower, but now he knew that was less the drug and more that the ritual had never started for William, while Will had had a good bit of his life drained by the thing.

Jack cursed himself for his stupidity. Thinking he'd defeated Killian when he'd only delayed himno, he had to go back further than that. His stupidity had been in believing his path would never cross Killian's again. He should have killed the Commodore. Of course, how was he to know for certain that shooting him wouldn't kill him? Why then hadn't he made certain the Commodore was dead?

He sighed. He could chase these questions and doubts around in his mind until he died and he would likely be no closer to an answer. 

There was no point in this. He had done what he'd done. He hadn't done what he hadn't done. Nothing could change that. The only answers he had to find now were to a different set of questions.

Why had he not run into William Turner, Senior once in the years since Barbossa had left him marooned? He puzzled over that one the most. Bootstrap Bill Turner had gotten it in his head to find Jack Sparrow. Why then had he not heard tell of it? Why had no one mentioned to him that someone was asking about him? For that matter, if anyone he knew in Tortuga or any of the other ports he frequented had seen Bootstrap, they'd have told him.

Jack's eyes glanced up at the bright circle of the low-hanging moon. "Where are you, William? What's 'appened to you?"

To Be Continued

ErinRua: Thanks! I'm blushing and beaming from your kind words! Yes, this is indeed going off on another tangentone I never envisioned before I started writing, but one that my muses seem intent to having me explore! I'm enjoying the ride as well and I'm happy to hear that you are, too!

AliciA: I'm glad you liked Jack's protectiveness. It seemed right when I wrote it. How can there be more? I asked my muses that same question. Twice now I thought I was finished, but they wouldn't let me stop! It's fun, actually, and I'm glad some of my readers are sticking around for the long haul!

LordLanceahlot: Edge of your seat! Yeaaay! I was hoping someone would say that! I'm always a little leery of writing any swashbuckling because I'm afraid I won't do justice to the action, so it's a thrill to find out that it did work!

Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Wow! High praise indeed. No, I don't think Disney would like that either, but hearing those words was enough to make me the happiest writer on fanfiction.net! Thanks!

  
Catherinexxix: Thanks for the review! It's quite a compliment! I'm glad the charactersseemed themselves! Hee! I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long! 

Unplugged32: I love it when readers quote back at me! Thanks! I'm glad you liked those lines. That really practically wrote itself. 

Steff: LOL! I hope this answers that question, but probably notI'll get back to work on that!


	13. part 13

****

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusementand, I hope, for the amusement of whoever reads it!

Sorry this took so long. Thanks for the wonderful reviews! I've replied as usual at the end. In startling contrast to my last chapter, I've gotten many more reviews than usual. KEEP IN MIND, THOSE OF YOU WHO PAY ATTENTION TO SUCH THINGS, REVIEW RESPONSES TAKE UP ABOUT TWO PAGES AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER! Your reviews keep me going and I am grateful that you each took the time to send one.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 13 by Ecri

Elizabeth Swann watched Will Turner and Captain Jack Sparrow as they clashed swords, moving swiftly yet gracefully across the deck of the Black Pearl. She saw their concentration, their anticipation of each other's moves, but she also saw the hint of a smile on Will's face. He was enjoying this. They had been weeks at sea already, and he had been weeks recovering from his ordeal at the hands of the mad pirate who'd tried to steal his life. Thanks to Jack, Commodore Killian was dead, and her dear Will was restored to healthand to her.

She worried he might push himself too much in his desire to be well, but she soon realized that Jack would never permit that. While it seemed he was as raucous as the rest of his crew, he was always aware of how tired Will was even before Will himself seemed aware of it. In such cases, Jack would call an end to whatever festivities, distractions, or games in which Will was participating, or he would suggest a quiet stroll on the deck, or ask Will if he wanted to use his cabin for a quiet moment with Elizabeth.

  
Will had used Jack's cabin for some weeks while he recovered, but as soon as he felt he was strong enough, which was much sooner that anyone else would have suggested, he insisted that Jack take back the cabin. Will claimed he would be comfortable in crew quarters, and, though some of the crew doubted this, he took to it as though born on the sea. If he hadn't earned the respect of the crew in so many other ways, this alone might have done it for him.

A small laugh from Will drew her attention back to the pair in time for her to see Jack drop his arm across Will's shoulder's with a smirk on his face as he whispered something to his young friend that Elizabeth couldn't hear. She smiled anyway just from the joy of hearing him so happy.

In a moment, they were sparring again, the clatter of sword against sword ringing through the air. Elizabeth could tell Will was tiring. His movements were just slightly less sharp. His parries carried slightly less power.

She was about to suggest they stop when she heard a voice behind her.

"They're putting on quite a show for you."

Elizabeth turned to see Anamaria standing slightly behind her. She offered the only other woman aboard a smile as she turned back to her scrutiny of Will and Jack. "They are indeed. It seems they're teaching each other a lot, too."

Anamaria laughed. "Jack will teach that boy every sneaky, underhanded trick he knows!"

Elizabeth smile twisted into a smirk as she tried not to laugh to hard and distract the combatants. "Yes, somehow, I can't see Jack adapting to the formal rules of engagement very well!" She sobered then and watched the fight for a moment. Then she turned to face Anamaria, who took a wary step back at the look in her eye.

"Anamaria, how long have you known Jack?"

"A while."

"Why?"

"Did you know Will's father?" Elizabeth's eyes scanned the other woman's face searching for some glimmer, some hint of the information she needed.

"No. I didn't meet him until after the mutiny." She paused as though unsure if she should add anything else. Then she looked Elizabeth in the eye. "I never knew him to speak about William Turner unless he was drunk." 

Elizabeth's puzzled look prompted further explanation. 

"He told me once that he thought of William Turner–Bootstrap Bill–as a brother. He says they were close. Them and a man named Nick. He said they were closer than kin. When Nick died, Jack and Bill grew even closer. He said he'd hoped Bill had escaped Barbossa, but he'd heard soon enough of what they'd done to him.

Elizabeth nodded sadly. "The cannon."

"Aye, the cannon. Tales like that are quick to be told, though I'm sure he who first told it left out the part about them all bein' undead." She looked at Elizabeth. "Of course, that's the part that makes it at all possible that Bill Turner could still be alive."

"Do you think it could be true, Anamaria? I'd hate to think that Will's hope could be kindled and dashed all in the space of one trip aboard the Pearl."

  
"All hopes are kindled and dashed in the space of one trip aboard the Pearl." 

  
Elizabeth stared at her thinking it an odd statement to make, but before she could inquire, Anamaria spoke again. "I suppose it's as likely as not that Bootstrap is alive. After all, many thought Captain Jack Sparrow to be dead before he reappeared after the mutiny." She smiled wryly. "Many thought he'd breathed his last at Port Royal when he was headed for the hangman's noose."

Elizabeth nodded remembering the day clearly. She'd certainly thought the man beyond saving. She'd stood there insisting that it wasn't right that they hang Jack, but her words fell on deaf ears. She remembered Will coming over to where she had stood with Commodore Norrington and her father. She remembered how her heart had skipped a beat when she recognized him. She had never seen him so well dressed, and the look on his face when he told her that he loved her had indeed taken her breath away making it that much easier for her to insist that she couldn't breath. Fainting as she had had only been a diversion, of course, and she had soon stood again desperate to see what Will was up to. 

She still couldn't quite comprehend the grace and strength of his movements. He and Jack had moved in concert as though in some familiar choreography. They appeared to be completely aware of how the other would react and responded as though they'd spent hours rehearsing, planning, and perfecting each and every action in response to those who would dare move against them.

Quite suddenly, she recalled something that Jack had told her when she had convinced him to search for Will. After he had set the Pearl's course to Scratch, she had again expressed surprise that he was so reticent to try to save the man who had saved his life. Jack had, by that time, imbibed just enough rum–keeping the bottles far from her and mumbling something about her probably trying to burn it–to say more than he would have otherwise.

She'd seen a faraway look come into his eyes, and he had whispered, "It's not yer place, me lad. It's not yer place at all. You don't belong there. Not younot yer fathernot to save the likes of me."

Only now did she realize what he had meant. She remembered Commodore Norrington's haughty remark to Will that he had forgotten his place. She remembered his reply word for word because it had sent a thrill of admiration and love through her as his soft, sincere voice dared this military man to challenge him. _It's right here, between you and Jack._ Only then had she thought to stand beside Will in defense of the Pirate Captain.

She shook herself from her thoughts to find Anamaria staring at her quizzically. Smiling slightly and brushing away the unasked question, she turned her attention back to Will and Jack just as they decided to call an end to the practice.

"Three hours a day, lad? Why on earth would you want to do this sort of thing three hours a day?" Jack asked the question as he examined his blade for any nicks or scrapes from the extended practice session. They hadn't quite managed Will's preferred length, but they'd been more than double the length Jack usually endured.

"I had little else to do except make the swords. I felt I'd be better at crafting them if I knew how to use them." He wiped the blade carefully cleaning its edges before pulling out a whetstone and restoring the sharpness of the edge. "The truth is, I'd seen too many impractical, ornate hilts that impaired a man's fighting. The right balance isn't worth much if a man's hand cramps because of too much ornamentation."

Jack nodded. "How practical of you." He grinned a bit and leaned closer to the boy. "Still, three hours a day seems a bit excessive."

"I" Will flushed and glanced briefly towards Elizabeth. "I wished to beimpressive."

Jack laughed. "You wished to be less frustrated, mate! Many's the man who wishes such a thing! To think how close I was to right when I accused you of being a eunuch."

  
Will glared at his friend. "Jack!"

"Sorry, matebut you have to admit"

"No more than you have to admit that you're no match for me with a sword." Will insisted.

Jack sputtered for a moment and was prepared to draw his own sword once more until he caught the twinkle in Will's eyes. "Nice try at the baitin', Will me lad. Nowoff to your lass before she accuses me of endangerin' your 'ealth."

***

Jack watched Elizabeth fuss over Will for a few moments before he turned and headed towards Gibbs who manned the wheel. "Gibbs, how're we doin'?"

"We've picked up speed as I'm sure you can tell." He indicated the sails, full and straining. "We should be able to make it to port in less than a day." He paused and looked the Captain in the eye. "Do ye think we'll be able to find some word of Bootstrap Bill there?"

"I wouldn't know where else to start, so I hope we do." Jack stared out at the horizon, a dark blue line separating the bright blue sky from the sparkling blue sea. "I don't think it'll be all that easy to find 'im, unless 'e wants to be found." He shrugged. "Since 'e's out lookin' for meor was the last we 'eard, I suppose 'e must stop occasionally at a few of me old favorite 'aunts."

His thoughts drifted to those favorite old haunts, and with vivid clarity he saw in his mind's eye, himself and his only two friends: Nick and William. The three of them had spent many a shore leave drinking rum and carousing with women. The island they were heading to know boasted one of their favorite pubs. 

The Painted Parrot had served many a rum to the trio of pirates from the Pearl. The boisterous talk and laughter, the tall tales, the dares, the lewd comments 

The coalescing images in his mind brought forth a memory that had not surfaced in well over a decade. He, Nick, and William had just arrived at the Painted Parrot. They'd been particularly long at sea, and had a hefty portion of riches to show for it. Round after round of rum was ordered and drunk as the trio glanced about the room trying to determine with which lovely lasses they might spend the evening. 

They were less drunk then they appeared, for their tolerance for rum was quite high. The drinking was more an outward excuse for their behavior than it was actually affecting them. As they egged each other on and told more and more outrageous tales, William had shifted his chair back slightly jostling the chair behind him so slightly that he hadn't even noticed. That is, he hadn't noticed until the man occupying it stood suddenly before him an irate look in his eyes. 

William, knowing the man was spoiling for a fight stood and the two exchanged silent glares for a moment or two. Jack and Nick watched in bemused silence. They would get involved if they were needed.

William and the man stood facing each other for a moment. "Name's Pete. I don't much care what yours might be."  


William's eyes twinkled a bit, a mischievous look in his eyes as he smirked at the man. "What makes you think I care what yours is?"

The man scowled, and he and William exchanged a few choice words. When the man suddenly swung at William's head, the blow was handily blocked. William even spared a wink for Jack and Nick assuring the two he was fine. 

Pete, large and well muscled, obviously relied on his size to frighten his opponents. His moves were clumsy, ungainly, but the power behind his blows was crippling if you took the full force of them. William dodged lightly under the big man's arm, bringing down all of his weight in a two-handed fist on his neck. The blow was enough to stun his opponent, giving William a moment to step back and draw his sword. When the man whirled around angrily to face him, he stopped at the sight of William's blade inches from his own nose.

Pete put up a hand slowly as though in surrender, then quickly moved his hand to his own sword hilt, gasping in surprise when he found it empty. The shock of not finding his weapon there drew his attention away from William and he looked bewildered at the floor as though expecting that he had dropped the sword.

"Are ye lookin' fer this, then, mate?" A cool, calm voice–barely above a whisper–asked. 

Jack Sparrow could tell the man hadn't taken proper notice of him before because Pete's eyes were nearly dropping from their sockets at the sight of him. Keeping his own smile small though allowing a slightly mad gleam to show in his eyes, he waved Pete's sword in his own face. Jack hadn't long been courting the image of a Mad Pirate, but he knew he wore it to good effect. A wide strip of cloth was wrapped around his long, dark hair, and bits of bead were braided into it as well as into his beard. Kohl rimmed his eyes lending a strange cast to his overall appearance though the odd swaying and seemingly random motions were probably what sold the look. 

  
"Give it back!" Pete thundered, eliciting nothing more than a slight smile.

Jack cocked his head to one side and seemed to be seriously considering the request. Pete stared at him expectantly.

"I'd like to, mate. I really would. Truth is" He leaned slightly forward and spoke in a softer conspiratorial tone. "I 'ate violence. The best thing for you to do now, I would think, is tobuy us a drink and apologize to my friend 'ere." Jack gestured towards William who had not let down his own guard, though, with his sword still steady, his eyes danced with suppressed merriment.

With a speed Pete couldn't have hoped to follow he found himself now facing William's sword, his own sword in the hands of this madman, the madman's swordand a fourth. He looked at the fourth sword and followed the blade with his eyes until he reached the hilt. There, his opponent's other friend stared back at him with danger in his eyes.

Raising his hands and shrugging slightly, he mumbled. "No 'arm done. No 'arm at all!" He backed away a step or two, and only when the mad looking pirate in braids and beads nodded, did he turn and run for the exit.

The others in the pub laughed raucously at the retreating figure and Jack only shrugged. Tossing his newly acquired, yet unwanted, sword towards the barman, he called out loudly. "That ought to buy us a few bottles! Keep the rum coming! We're a thirsty lot!"

Jack shook his head at the memory, and noticed Gibbs still staring at him. "What? Full ahead, and let me know if ye see anythin' on the way." He turned and headed for his cabin, still lost in thought. If William Turner the elder were still alive, he'd hear word of it in The Painted Parrot.

**

The Painted Parrot was still a lively place for a man to find a bit of entertainment whether he preferred the company of women or of rum. On a night like this, the man who called himself Bootstrap had plenty of both. He threw around plenty of money, trying to drown his own sorrows. His quest had failed. He had never quite been able to find any of those he'd sought. His friend was dead. His family was gone. The search had gotten him nothing. Seeking solace in the goings on at the Parrot was all he had left. 

He'd faced the fact that his quest to find his friend had failed long ago, but it left his life empty. Embracing piracy had been all he could do. There was no family for him to return to and piracy was something he'd always been good at. Of course, in recent years, it had become more and more difficult to avoid donating his footwear to the hangman. He'd soon realized that the more ruthless a crew he signed on with made it less likely that he'd be caught. He recalled his friend. The one who'd swore to him once that one day he'd be Captain of the Black Pearl. He'd been right about that, and Bootstrap, as he now called himself, abandoning any claim to his Christian name, had not been surprised that he'd managed to do it.

He reached for his glass downing the remaining rum in one long gulp and calling again for the barman. Abandoning the dark thoughts, he gestured for one of the pub's girls to join him, and soon all thoughts of the startlingly wrong path his life had taken were gone.

After a few more drinks, the two headed off to the young woman's room. Bootstrap's nights were usually filled with encounters like this one, and his anticipation seemed heightened somehow, perhaps because of the unhealthy dose of self-pity in which he'd wallowed earlier. He followed the girl to her rooms and they wasted little time setting a price and getting to her business and his pleasure.

**

The first feeble hint of the sun's attempt to reclaim its dominance in the sky had not yet even begun to tint the world with its rosy glow when Bootstrap found himself awake and sitting up in bed. Something had woken him, but he couldn't recall what it had been. Tossing aside the bedsheets, he reached for his trousers, which he'd carelessly tossed onto the chair in the wench's corner. Unnoticed, a small gold band slid from his pocket to hit the floor. 

Taking a look out of the window, Bootstrap breathed in deeply, but the scent of the tropical flowers mingled with the salt air did nothing to sooth his mind. Struck from behind, he felt himself falling before he could understand quite where the threat had come from.

He stared up at his attacker from the floor recognizing him in an instant. "You!" He cried out before he could stop himself. The other man nodded grimly and held a knife at Bootstrap's throat. "Aye, it's me. I've taken all I can from you. I've tracked you all over the Caribbean and now" Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, there was a crash of breaking porcelain followed by a cascade of the broken pieces of a shattered lamp falling all over Bootstrap. He looked up and grinned at his evening's entertainment. "Thanks, love. Good shot."

  
She grinned at him. "I didn't 'ave a choice. You ain't paid me yet!"

With a laugh, the man tossed his now unconscious attacker off of him and stood. Seeing the small gold ring that had earlier slipped from his pocket, he picked it up and slid it back where it belonged. 

Brushing the last bits of porcelain dust from his clothes and hair, he sighed. It wouldn't be easy, but the least he could do was carry the unconscious man out of the girl's room. After all, she could hardly do it, and she had saved his life.

"All right, love. I'll clear up the mess and then you and I can talk about a repeat performance and, in light of what you've done for mea small bonus." He winked at her, and, knowing how much the girl loved pretty baubles, reached for a small impressive looking, but actually inexpensive bracelet he knew she would like.

The girl squealed in delight snatching the jewelry from his hand.

He smiled at her reaction and lifted the heavy man from her bare floor. Dragging him out of the room and down the stairs, he tossed him in the alley. He considered killing the man, but the chase was half the fun. He'd leave it until the next time they met, which, knowing how stubborn and persistent the man was, wouldn't be long.

To Be Continued

Jackfan2: I'm glad you're enjoying this! 

Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Yes, the pun in that line about the turnings of Turner's mind was intentional. I'm glad you liked it! It's all worth while when someone notices!

  
LordLanceahlot: Thanks! I was trying to keep them selfless but believably so, and, as for Jack being awesomeHee! That's wonderful! What a compliment!

WakingDream: Thanks! I've always hoped that something I write might stay with my readers! I'm tickled that it was that scene, because it's the sort of thing I love to read myself. I'm getting more and more compliments on Jack, and since I started this fic purposely to see if I was at all capable of writing a character as complex and fun as Jack, I can't think of any better reaction to it! I'll try to keep the chapters coming more quickly now. It's one of my New Year's resolutions!

Panther7x: I do appreciate constructive criticism, and I do recognize that this review was not a flame. I commend you for having the courage to post it. Most people don't want to criticize for fear of offending. I'm sorry to hear that you thought Jack irritating in the beginning. Could you tell me just what was irritating? I'm also sorry I lost you after chapter 6. I know there's a lot of different things going on, but for me, a story has to be satisfying emotionally as well as in the action sense. That means I like the comfort part of the hurt/comfort scenario just as much as the action and adventure parts of the action/adventure. I'll keep in mind what you've said, however. I'm not sure what weird, detached, cynical vibe you meant. Could you please send an e-mail to let me know?

Caitlin: I'm overwhelmed! It's a privilege to have been your first fanfiction read. I'm thrilled that I kept you in the fanfiction world! I remember my first taste of fanfiction! I was stunned that this was going on without my knowledge for so long! Thanks! Keep reading, and don't be shy about posting your own stories!

Catherinexxix: I promise to finish this story. I can't say how many chapters there will be, but I can promise that I'll do my best to keep it interesting! If I'm ever taking too long with an update, feel free to let me know! I'm glad you find my language choices appropriate and my characters "in character" as well as the lovely way you describe how much you enjoy my Jack Sparrow. I'm thrilled that so many people like him.

AcagedbirD: Thanks! I'll try to write more again very soon!

TheRowan: Thanks and welcome back! I'm sorry you gave up on me, but I am thrilled that you've found you're way back! The story will take some time to tell, so if you think I'm losing you again, let me know!

Kirsten Wahlquist: Ouch! Sorry! Of course, while I am sorry, I'm also flattered! I'll try to keep the updates coming!

Mon2: Thanks! I've got a lot of questions about Bootstrap, too, which is how this thing started! Thank you for marking me down as one of your faves! That means a lot!

Pixie Wildfire: Okay! How's this! More soon. I promise.

Nyx, inu lover: Once again, I'm flattered! Keep checking back for updates!

AnneWithane: Hi! Thanks! I do love the West Wing, and I'm thrilled that you're a fan of my work in that fandom. I want to let you know I am working on a sequel to Non Sum Qualis Eram. It's a long one, so I don't know when it will be done, especially since I'm in the middle of one POTC and one LOTR fic right now. Your compliments are really appreciated and really made my day!

Liz: Hee! I absolutely love it when people quote some lines back to me! I'm glad you liked that one and that you think I have a "particularly fantastic 'Jack' voice", Jack being a big part of the reason I started writing this. Thanks again! Keep reading!


	14. part 14

****

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusementand, I hope, for the amusement of whoever reads it!

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!

This chapter was a long time in coming, in part because my must refused to go from point a to point b. Knowing where point d through z are gave me a lot to work with, and more than a little impatience with both my muse and with point b!

I do sincerely apologize for the long delay, and promise, now that I am on track, not to let it go so long again.

So with no further adieux, and in celebration of Johnny Depp's nomination for an Academy Award even if he didn't win, here's an extra long chapter. (It's more than double the length of most of my previous chapters. Consider it a thank you for your patience!)

A Pirate's Life and Death part 14 by Ecri

As the sun released the sky to the stewardship of moon and stars, Captain Jack Sparrow inhaled gratefully of the salt sea air. Wind and sea had been cooperative through the long day, and, with full sails, and swift currents, the Black Pearl had made better time than any aboard would have guessed. Sparrow expected to make port sometime near sunset the next day and be able to start the search for Bootstrap Bill in earnest. 

He was as anxious as Will Turner–if not more so–truth be told. Will searched for an ideal, a man he had heard tell of, first from his mother, then, built up in his own idealistic imagination, and finally from Jack himself and Barbossa's crew. 

Jack searched for a friend, perhaps the truest friend he'd had in all his life until the Junior Turner had come along. 

Jack's eyes gazed upwards at the full sails of his beloved ship, and allowed the peaceful freedom of such a moment to ease whatever worries he held hidden in his heart. He was not a man who ran from trouble. Generally, he embraced it, rushing headlong through it if he believed that was the shortest route to something he desired. He wasn't a fearful man, either. He'd faced the hangman's noose still searching for a way out, never truly giving up all hope. He'd faced cursed pirates–fought skeletons of men he'd sailed with and called friend. He'd faced Killianall right, so maybe that had scared him a bit, but Jack had learned long ago that bravery wasn't the absence of fear. It was being able to stand up and face it without soiling yourself.

No, Captain Jack Sparrow was neither a fearful man, nor one who ran from trouble, but his–apprehension–had grown recently. This search had barely begun and already the detritus of his past that had been dredged from the depths of his memory were more than he wished to face. It seemed to him that the past should stay where you put it. If you leave it behind, it shouldn't come after you like a puppy seeking attention. It shouldn't sneak up on you like a thief in the night wanting nothing other than to steal away any semblance of perspective, balance, or normalcy you managed to build. It shouldn't hide so well that you thought it lost if you bothered think of it at all, only to invade your thoughts when you should be occupied with other things. 

Jack cut off his line of thinking and wondered where his good mood had gone. Dark thoughts seemed to linger on the edge of awareness lately, poisoning the elation he should feel. He'd rescued Elizabeth and Will, and rid the world of Killian. What better cause to celebrate? 

It was Joe's insistence that William Turner lived that had churned up such bad memories. It all tied together with Killian and the friendship Sparrow had shared with Nick and William. He'd made a choice years ago, and he still hadn't found a way to live with it. Now, with the real possibility that his friend, Will's father, could be alive, he knew he had to find a way to face it, or let it torment him always. Just like he'd have to face the fact that William Sr. had retrieved the item they'd left with Ol' Joe.

He was entitled of course. It belonged to him as much as to Jack, and if he was the last one of them alive, he'd have thought it reasonable to take it. That was really what bothered him. Ol' Joe had claimed that William was set on searching for him. That implied that his friend didn't think he was dead. Of course, there was so much about William recent life that he couldn't even guess. How long had he been trapped in the depths of Davy Jones' Locker? How had he found a way out of that harrowing predicament? Why hadn't he bumped into Bill once in all this time, or at least heard tell of him? There were so many questions he'd have to ask the man once they found him.

Of course, just because he had been alive more recently than presumed, didn't mean he hadn't died since. Ol' Joe had said three years. A lot could happen in three years. That was the one thing Jack hadn't mentioned to Will. The boy was bright enough to guess that for himself, and if he hadn't, Jack didn't want to add to his anxieties.

Of course, there were other things racing about in the darker corners of Will Turner's mind. It was obvious from the brooding the boy seemed to be doing lately. Even as he thought it, Jack was surprised to come upon the lad alone on deck; a dark figure sitting huddled by the rail unidentifiable, hidden in the shadows, and silent as the grave.

Jack cleared his throat, unwilling to speak before announcing himself. The small sound caused the figure to all but leap to his feet, eyes wide. Jack smiled in spite of himself. No pirate–or perhaps he should say _seasoned_ pirate–would have been so startled. What had brought the would-be pirate to hide in the shadows deep in thought he couldn't guess. 

"What's all this, then, mate? Why aren't you asleep, or with your loveor for that matter sleeping _with_ your"

"Jack!"

Jack held up his hands as if in surrender, then pressed palm to palm, bowing slightly over the prayerful gesture asking forgiveness for the remark without having to say a word. "Didn't mean to upset your sensibilities, Will. Of course, we gentlemen don't discuss our romantic conquests."

Will was shaking his head, a slight blush upon his cheeks. "There was no conquest!"

"Ah," Jack took a step closer. "Sounable to perform or unequipped to"

  
"Jack!" His gaze dropped to the deck beneath his feet, and Jack felt the unfamiliar sting of regret that he hadn't held his tongue. Jack was about to speak again, when quiet words reached his ears.

"At least my love for her has never failed."

Jack frowned. The way Will spoke seemed to imply that he had failed in other ways. "Out with it, lad!"

At first, Jack wondered if Will hadn't heard him speak. Then, he wondered if he _had_ spoken. Will raised his eyes to look at Jack, and the Pirate Captain saw the storms raging in his eyesand, Jack could only assume, in his soul.

__

Ahhh, lad. Jack sighed internally, not letting on what he suspected. Will would need to find the words to tell him about this on his own.

"I had no wish for her to see methat way."

"Which way is that, Will? Crossing countless miles to find her? Fighting Killian when any fool could see you lacked the strength to stand?"

Will made a gesture as though to discount such things, but Jack wasn't having any of it. "Out with it, boy."

Anger seethed in those still stormy eyes, as Will glared at his friend. "_I_ am _no_ boy!" Just as quickly as it had come upon him, the anger drained away, leaving Will looking younger and smaller, and more like the boy he denied being. "You know what I mean, Jack." His gaze was again on the deck. "Weak, ill, in need of rescue"

Jack had been expecting this. Defensive, easy to anger, these were familiar aftereffects of Killian's drug. The boy was fragile from the bout with the Commodore's foul drug. Not fragile in a physical way, no, he was well on his way to being over that, but his ego was likely bruised at best. 

Jack had seen it in others who'd had the fortune to survive an addiction to the brew. Will was beginning to gain his strength, but he was also beginning to realize how much strength he had lost. Imagining his ladylove seeing him in that condition had been about as good for him as having it happen at all. Somehow, the lad likely thought the worst thing about it had not been that he'd fallen, but that Elizabeth had witnessed his fall.

"Lad, you're too 'ard on yerself." He draped an arm across Will's shoulders and spoke in soft, conspiratorial tones. "Elizabeth isn't in love with you because she thinks you're invincible. She's _in love with_ _you_. Period. No because. No whys or wherefores. She's a lass, not a business partner, and you're in love, not negotiating a contract."

Will didn't look at Jack. "I wanted to be worthy of her, but I couldn't even save her." He raised his somber eyes and stared into Jack's and the older man got the distinct impression he was searching desperately for his own worth as if he wasn't at all aware that to find that, he needed to look inside himself. 

Silently, Jack cursed whatever upbringing Will had had that would leave him with so little belief in himself. Sure, Killian's drug had amplified these issues, but it couldn't have created them. He had first thought the boy lacked self-esteem when he'd received the gift Will had sent to him. Beautiful it was, but the note that had come with it had told Jack all he needed to know about Will Turner's opinion of himself.

He'd hidden it well. Jack never would have guessed it of the lad during the Barbossa incident, but, of course, it was after that that his life had likely changed. Nothing like wooing a girl above your station' to shine a light upon all the inadequacies others might imagine you possess. Killian's interference certainly hadn't helped.

Jack began to stroll around the deck, his arm still draped across Will's shoulders thus forcing him to keep pace. He looked left and right as though to be sure he wasn't about to be overheard, then spoke quietly to Will. "Tell me, Will. Elizabethshe isn't very bright, is she?"

"What? Jack! How can you say"

"Shhhh!" Jack waved his free hand in front of Will as though he would physically beat down the volume of the words the younger man had spoken. "Keep it down, me lad. Keep it down. I was just askin' a question. Ye don't think too 'ighly of 'er intelligence, do ye?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Jack"

"Hush! I said to keep it down, mate!" Jack's hands wavered in front of Will in an odd dance of movement none, possibly not even Jack, could easily interpret. "Soyou _do_ think she's a bright lass. Well then" He paused in his walking and stroked his beaded beard as though deep in thought. He snapped his fingers then as if a something had occurred to him. "I've got it! You think she's a bit shallow."

"Jack!"

"Shoulda seen that before, really"

"Jack, stop it!"

"I meana girl like that"

"How can you say"

"used to the finer things in life"

"She's not!"

"dresses from Paris

"You know very well"

"and London"

"You're not even listening!"

"not Singapore, though"

"Jack!" Will fairly exploded. His face was red with barely suppressed rage. "Take it back! Elizabeth is the fairest, sweetest, most intelligent, thoughtful, kind, considerate, compassionate woman in all the world. I'll have an apology from you at once, or"

Jack moved to stand in front of Will. He grasped the lad's shoulders in his hands and looked his friend in the eye as he spoke softly, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Or you'll what? Throttle me with your bare 'ands? Come at me with a sword? Aye, lad. That she is. We've proved something 'ere, though, 'aven't we?"

Will shook his head. "We"

"We've learned two things. ONE" Jack waggled a finger in Will's face. "You're not the weak coward you think you are, since you threatened an armed Pirate Captain with every intent of causing said captain great bodily harm though _you_ are completely unarmed, and TWO" He waggled two fingers in Will's face. "You think Elizabeth thinks very little of the one man in her life who would leave hearth and home, move heaven and earth, and sail the seas with pirates and cutthroats just to find her."

Will stared at Jack, the fire of his rage doused soundly by the icy logic Jack offered.

The younger man took a deep breath and a step back and hitting the ship's rail. "Am I a fool, Jack?"

Jack pursed his lips and looked up at the sky as though considering it before dropping his gaze to look his friend in the eye. "Only some of the time, lad, and the smartest man in the world is often a willing fool for the lady of his heart's desire."

Will raised an eyebrow at the poetic remark, but refrained from teasing his friend about it. 

"Come, lad, why be so 'ard on yerself?"

"II don't knowshe's the governor's daughter"

"And you're the lowly blacksmith? Come along, lad. You're an artisan, a crafstman. It's not as though you sell rotten apples off a cart in the market. You 'ave a trade, which is more than a lot of men can say."

"I knowI can't support her on my wages. I'm an apprentice, really"

"To that drunken sluggard? Everyone knows who does the real work!"

"At most, a few might suspect, but I can't afford to set up a shop of my own. I'mhe took me in as an orphan"

"So you need to be grateful for all the rest of yer days? Pull the other one, lad, it's got bells on!"

"I'm serious, Jack! Do you know how much it would cost to set up my own shop? Do you have any idea at all how little I make?" Desperation was creeping back into his voice.

"Well, no, lad, but I know 'ow you can make more!"

"I'm not a pirate, Jack." Will turned away from him and faced the dark ocean though little could be seen. 

Jack saw and heard despondency take hold once more. The moon slipped behind the clouds plunging the pair and the Pearl into a world black as pitch, though oddly befitting the somber mood.

Jack's eyes gleamed, and he spun the lad around to face him. The smile on his face glittered with gold as the wind picked up obligingly tearing the clouds from the moon. "No, you may not be a pirate, Will, but you are Bootstrap's son. Whatever else Bootstrap was, he planned ahead. If we find 'im, you'll 'ave a shop of your own, and enough to pay for ring, wedding, and 'ouse!"

"What are you talking about? My father wasn't rich." A look of doubt crossed Will's face. "Was he?"

"Not as such, but the pair of us 'ad an agreement." Jack was enjoying himself immensely.

"I don't understand."

"No. Nor will you, since I'm not about to tell you anything else." Jack smiled happily as Will stared at him in confusion. It was the way he preferred to keep the people around him. "Don't you be worryin' about it. I'll find William Senior. I suspect we'll find 'im soon."

"How do you know?"   


Jack shrugged. "Just a hunch really."

"A hunch?"

"Don't knock it, lad. Sometimes, it's all you've got to go on!"

To Jack's eyes, the lad did seem in slightly better spirits, but he could sense another subtle shift as talk had turned to finding William. The boy was likely unsure they should be doing this at all. Jack knew they had thrust this choice upon him. He and Elizabeth had decided it was in Will's best interests to find his father and had changed course while he slept. It wasn't a decision he'd made lightly, nor would he change his mind now, but it occurred to him that maybe Will wasn't willing to search for his father because he wasn't ready to face that part of himself.

Will had grown up believing the Senior Turner was a merchant. When he'd lost his mum and come looking for the only other relative he had, his ship had been beset by pirates. It was a lot for a lad of 13 to deal with, and the image of his father had likely grown in his mind over the years. Maybe Will was afraid of disappointment. Maybe he was afraid of losing another long held belief in the face of harsh reality.

Whatever was going through the lad's mind, Jack knew the one thing Will needed more than anything right now was to have some tangible link to his father. It was time. "Lad, I've got something for you." 

***********

The Painted Parrot had seen busier days, but the man who stood darkly silhouetted in the doorway cared only about one patron. Spotting his quarry sitting with a wench in his lap, he strode across the room and sat himself uninvited at the man's table. "I told you before," he said without preamble, "that I've taken all I can take. Did you hear me? I've 'ad enough! You give me back what's mine, and I'll leave ye be. If you don'twell, a man who 'as nothin' 'as nothin' to lose, so it won't cost me anythin' to take back what ye won't give freely."

"Aww, Bill," the woman said to the man she was perched upon. "Wot ye gonna do, then? Go off and fight this'un when ye could find better comp'ny 'ere."

Bootstrap Bill eased the wench off his lap and leaned menacingly across the table. "I told you more than once, and you should know it already. Wot kind o'pirate be ye? Take wot ye can, and give nothin' back! You'll not be takin' from me what I've already took from you. It's mine now, by the code."

"Don't speak to me of the code! Ye don't know a thing about it! There's lines pirates don't even cross"

Bootstrap's laughter rang through the near empty establishment, cutting off the words of his nameless accuser. "Who taught ye that! That's a lie if ever I 'eard one." The bitterness dripped from Bill's words and even the man confronting him drew back involuntarily. "Truth is, mate, we set limits to see if we'll cross 'em, and you know what?" He lowered his voice and leaned closer to the man. "It takes remarkably little to make a man do what 'e swore 'e never would. _You_ should know that better than anyone." With that, Bootstrap Bill suddenly rose, a dagger in his hand. Lashing out with it, he put a gash in the man's arm and knocked him down. As the man hit the floor, Bootstrap grabbed him by the shirt and held the knife to the other man's throat. "I've no desire to take yer life"

"You've done that already!" The prone man growled.

Bootstrap's eyes took on a hard glint. "Aye, but I can do worse! Remember that, and keep your distance." Throwing the man down, he secreted the knife, rose to his feet and left the Painted Parrot without looking back.

The man stayed where he'd fallen for a moment or two, then got shakily to his feet. His hand clutched at the slice in his arm desperately trying to keep hold back the blood.

The wench knelt by his side. The man she'd thought to get her day's wages from had left her dry, so she had no recourse but to try to separate the wounded man from whatever money he had. "'Ere love, let me 'elp you! Ain't you a sight!" After leading the man to another table, she scurried off returning a moment later with rum and bandages. She poured the rum on the gash eliciting a surprised cry before the man could bite his lip to cut it short. 

The woman bandaged his arm with a surprisingly gentle hand. "Thanks." He whispered the word, lacking both the strength and the inclination to speak louder. "Ye didn't need to do that."

She smiled at him sweetly. "So we'll say ye owe me one, won't we?" Curiosity overwhelmed her business sense, and, as she tied off the bandage with a neat little knot, she had to ask her question. "Wot is it ye wanted from 'im?" 

"Everything."

Irritated at the nonanswer, she scowled at him. "Wot's that s'posed ta mean?"

"He stole it all, and I will get it back." 

She shivered not so much at the words but at the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes. While he was lost in his own dark thoughts, she slipped away more willing to lose the wages than to hear what tale the man might have told.

*****

Will stared at the box Jack had given him. He still hadn't opened it, though Jack had left him alone with it more than an hour ago. He hadn't known what to make of Jack's sudden seriousness when the man he considered his closest friend ushered him to his cabin. On the short walk, Jack had been deep in thought. He'd made no extraneous gestures, no small talk, and no off-color observations, and from that alone Will had been certain that Jack Sparrow was about to turn his life upside down once again.

Jack had always been good at that. In their very first meeting, Sparrow had managed to best him in a sword duel by cheating, something he somehow hadn't suspected, believing that even a pirate would follow a code of conduct. Jack's single word defense had told the blacksmith how naïve he had been.

It was while on their way to rescue Elizabeth that first time, that Jack had again irrevocably altered his view of the world by telling him that William Turner, Sr. was a pirate. Only discovering his father was an undead pirate had been more unsettling.

Of course, just when he had begun to come to terms with his newfound heritage, Jack had informed him that there was a better than good chance that his father was still alive.

That first night after Jack had broken that news to him, he had dreamed again. The dreams had left him for a time, though he hadn't a clue why. Jack's news had inspired his subconscious mind to churn out the most memorable nightmare he'd yet suffered since it had occurred to him that he might well have caused his father's death.

There was the chance that, perhaps, he had forgotten how bad the dreams had been. Perhaps the joy of having been reunited with Elizabeth had lowered his defenses. Whatever the reason, that night had been horrifying.

The dream had not started like most of the nightmares about his father. He had been in Port Royal. It was the night of Killian's raid, yet it was also the night Barbossa had taken Elizabeth. Skeleton pirates raced about the streets side by side with Killian's men, and Will, sword in one hand, pistol in the other, was doing his best to find Elizabeth and keep her safe. He'd managed to fell one pirate and turned towards another, only to find himself facinghimself. The other Will Turner stared at him in wide-eyed astonishment. 

Will knew, in the way you know things in dreams, that the other man was not him, but his father. He could do nothing else but stare at his father. Feeling something sticky, Will looked down at his hand, which, to his horror, held his sword plunged deep into his father's stomach. He could not have done it, for he had not moved, yet there was the blood from the wound, and there was his hand on the hilt of his sword. He released the hilt and took a step back, and his father took a step with him, then another closing the distance. The older man stepped into the moonlight, and, as its silvery threads touched him, William Turner, Sr. was transformed, as the rest of Barbossa's crew had been, into a skeleton. 

Hands of bone, rotted flesh, and rotting sinew reached towards the sword hilt his son had just abandoned. Then, as Will watched, his father slowly drew the blade from his own now skeletal belly, and turned it around. With one thrust forward it would pierce Will's stomach. That was when he'd wakened in a cold sweat, lungs heaving in desperation to take in his next breath.

What the dream meant, he did not know. It made little sense, since Barbossa's crew could not bleed, and since his father had apparently not been killed by the removal of the curse. Will couldn't be responsible for his death. So why dream the very act of killing him?

The young blacksmith reasoned with himself that dreams need contain no logic, and certainly, nightmares contained far less than the benign images of their less intense counterparts. Still he puzzled over it, though he'd come to no satisfying conclusions.

Will's thoughts came back to the present as he heard the sounds of morning. No birdsong on a pirate ship, but he heard the unmistakable sounds of the crew who had been asleep now rising and returning to their chores.

Still he made no move to open the box, or, as Jack had called it, his birthright. 

Sparrow had rummaged through a chest where, Will knew, he kept only those things most important to him. Then he'd held out the box wrapped in a plain bit of cloth.

"I didn't know he'd left it for ye, or I'd have put it in your 'ands a long time ago, Will." Jack told him, apology and regret in his voice.  
  
"What is it?"

"It's your birthright. William put this aside for you, a long time ago. He left it with Ol' Joe and Joe gave it to me when 'e told me your father was still alive." Jack paused.

Will held it in his hands, not bothering to remove the soiled, tattered wrapping. "You've had it all this time." It wasn't a question. It was obvious that Jack had had it all this time, but it was something to say when all other words escaped him.

Will sat down heavily on the one chair in the room eyes still on the box. He felt Jack's stare, but was unwilling to speak.

Jack filled the silence himself. "Your father was the best friend I ever 'ad. If I'd knownWill, I know you feel betrayed but I can tell you 'e loved you."

"_You know_ I feel betrayed. You're better at this than I am, Jack, because I haven't a clue how I feel." Abruptly, Will stood. "He left this for me? He could have brought it himself."

"William was looking for me and Barbossa"

Will's voice was quiet and laden with the hurt that he knew had shone in his eyes since he'd come around from Killian's drug. His emotions had insisted on remaining close to the surface where they could surprise him by bursting out unbidden from time to time. "Sohe was looking for you and Barbossa. I suppose I just had to wait my turn."

He pushed past Jack and walked out to the deck. It was too stifling in the cabin and he needed the cool air of predawn and the scent of the sea to still the rapid beating of his heart.

He'd sat right here staring out at the ship's wake since then. He was curious what might be in the box, but he didn't want to open it. It seemed foolish somehow, a piece of his father, here in his hand, and he chose to ignore it. 

Will forced his gaze down to the box. It was square, and made of a fine wood stained a deep mahogany. The top was carved beautifully in a design vaguely reminiscent of the sea. Great curls and swirls suggested waves or shells, though the design was more abstract than to accurately depict either. The sides of the box were likewise decorated, and on one side was a latch and keyhole. The key, Jack had shown him, was secreted in a small enclosure on the underside that easily popped open when you pressed two of the curlicues down at the same time. Infinitely clever, he'd thought when he'd seen it. The craftsman in him wondering how it was accomplished.

Will knew he should open it, yet somehow it seemed a comforting thing to do the opposite of what his father would wish. Perhaps he was hurt, angry, afraid, but he found it strangely satisfying to be in control for once. He got to his feet as the sun began its climb and he returned to his own bunk, stowing the box with what little he had to his name. 

Perhapshe would look at it later. For now, he didn't want to tie himself to the past. He didn't want to be the son of Bootstrap Bill. He didn't want to be Port Royal's blacksmith, or the upstart boy who didn't know his place in proper British society. He didn't want to be the whelp whose blood could reverse a curse, or whose life could be stolen to extend some immortal monster's time in this world. He wanted only to be Will. Whoever that was, and whatever that meant, he was tired of being all those other things. For now, being Will would be enough.

********

Elizabeth Swann stared at Will as he worked with the crew of the Pearl. She was afraid he might push himself too quickly and send himself into some sort of relapse, but the truth was he was growing stronger every day and seemed very much at home. He stretched a bit, as he helped trim the sails, his bare chest showing her how much weight he'd lost recently thanks to Killian's games.

He was laughing with the pirates as they worked, and she realized that she hadn't often heard him laugh before their first adventure on the Pearl. He might have offered a timid smile, or a small sound that was little more than the promise of laughter he was unable or unwilling to share, but never before had she heard this hearty, joyous sound.

He had always seemed so serious before, but here, at his ease, smiling and laughing freely, she was struck by so many things.

  
The most obvious was that he was a handsome man, especially when he laughed. Yes, he'd lost a lot of weight because of his recent illness, and his color wasn't as healthy as it had seemed, but then, as she recalled, his color improved on the sea. It had certainly done that the last time. Though he lived in the sunniest of climes, a blacksmith's shop was by nature hot and dark. He got little sun as a rule, and it was his time aboard the Pearl that had given him his healthy pallor.

Also, he rarely seemed happy in Port Royal. He had nothing but smiles for her when they met, but they were subdued, as though he feared he might offend by being too happy and be cast from her side with not a moment to plead forgiveness. 

Then there was the undeniable way he made her feel. _He_ made her happy, especially now, hearing him laugh as though he hadn't a care in the worldthat thought struck her. That was what it came down to, wasn't it?

He did have a care in the world. He had quite a few of them. She'd grown up privileged and pampered, and he'd grown up wondering when he might next eat. He'd felt like he was outside her circle for so her circle maintained. A blacksmith, uneducated, uncouth, unimpressivethose were the words she'd heard about him behind his back. Those were the things, among others, that high society tried desperately to perpetuate about him and people like him–people in his circle'. 

The truth of the matter was that Will Turner might well be a blacksmith, but he was certainly educated. He'd taught himself most of what he knew, to be sure, for he'd had a drunkard for a teacher. He'd learned through watching, through listening, through asking, and through trial and error. He was anything but uneducated. As for the other things people said of him, he was most assuredly the most mannerly and elegant man she'd ever met. Soft-spoken and insistent that they adhere to the proper social protocols, no matter how often she requested he call her by her given name. 

Certainly, Elizabeth did not see how anyone could call him unimpressive if they had seen his behavior at the Almost-Hanging of Captain Jack Sparrow. Nor if they'd seen how determined he had been to rescue her. Will Turner was, in fact, the most impressive man she had ever met.

As she gazed at him now, seemingly enjoying the work he did though it was not easy, she realized that she wanted to get to know this Will Turner. This Will was the one who had declared his love for her and saved Jack Sparrow from the hangman's noose. This was the Will Turner who had come for her, even hiring a pirate to do it. This Will Turner was neither concerned with his recognized station in life, nor with the impossible task of impressing her father and the other Port Royal dignitaries who were less than emphatic in their acceptance of him.

She loved him, and it was about time that she made him understand that this wasn't a fleeting emotion. Perhaps he hadn't seen her devotion to him. Perhaps he hadn't realized that he meant the world to her. She hadn't been clear enough. She hadn't impressed it upon him. 

  
"Well, no time like the present." She moved quickly across the deck and towards Will. She didn't stop to look left or right. She stood before him, and, when he'd finished coiling the rope he held, she stood upon her toes and kissed him soundly on the lips, relishing the surprise and embarrassment she sensed in him.

**

Will laughed at the joke Gibbs had told, though he told it poorly. The mood on the Pearl was as light as the breezes, and even Gibbs' poor attempt at humor was appreciated by the crew. They worked together trimming the sails, and someone had begun singing. It was a raucous song, and Will blushed to hear it. He knew it wasn't the type of thing one was apt to hear at the Governor's Mansion, and perhaps that was why it made him laugh. 

He glanced toward Jack, who sang and laughed with the rest, even while his eyes were glued to the horizon. It was when he finished coiling the rope in his hands that he got the biggest surprise of his life. 

Elizabeth had crossed the deck when he wasn't watching, and stood directly in front of him, a determined expression on her face. She stood on her toes, and leaned into him, kissing him full on the lips. His eyes widened in faintly embarrassed surprise, but then he lost himself in it. Closing his eyes, he reached around her trim waist and pulled her closer to him and returning the kiss. 

She pulled gently away from him, and they saw only each other, heard only their beating hearts and not the catcalls, whistles, and comments from the rest of the crew. "Elizabeth," he said her name like a caress, cradling the tones in his mouth and pouring his passions into each syllable. 

"Will." She said his name softly–a breathless, hopeful word that obviously meant more to her than any she had ever uttered before.

Will found himself lost in her eyes. "What was that for?" He was still a bit breathless from the kiss, but he had to know what had provoked that most lovely interlude.

She smiled up at him. "I should have told you every day from the moment I met you. I love you." 

He returned her smile almost laughing out loud at the sound of his own words being said back to him. Perhaps Jack was right. Perhaps, if Elizabeth could love him, he was already worthy of her. 

*****

"The Painted Parrot!" Jack stared at the sign outside the pub. The Pearl had just made berth not more than an hour ago, and a beautiful sunset had been their greeting to this Pirate's haven. Not as popular a spot as Tortuga, the place did still have its merits. One was that the barman at the Parrot, the best local drinking spot, was quick to sell information, for the right price.

Jack had sent AnaMaria and Gibbs to secure some much needed supplies, and he had taken Elizabeth and Will with him–since neither would be left behind–to visit the one pub on the island that Jack had frequented with William Turner the Older. 

"That's it?" Elizabeth asked, her tone incredulous. 

Jack could see her point. The building looked as though pieces of it propped each other up like a house of cards. In front, just to the left of the doorway, a pirate had passed out still clutching an empty bottle of rum in his hand. The sign above the door was weather worn and hanging in such a way that it seemed a good wind would send it half way to London. The entire thing was just downwind from what must have been the local trash dump.

Jack frowned. "It may not look like much out here, lass, but inside" Jack's smile fell. "Well, it still won't look like much, but it is the best there is in these parts."

"Do you think my father would be here?" Will's anxiety was as plain as Elizabeth's incredulity had been. 

"Not to worry, me lad. If 'e ain't 'ere now, 'e's been 'ere. It won't take but a bit of persuasion to get the barman to tell us when was the last time William was in port." Jack stepped confidently forward only to stop and spin around again, arms waving, and ruffles flapping when he realized he was alone. 

Elizabeth stood a pace or two behind him, looking back at Will who stood a pace or two behind her. Jack looked questioningly at his young friend. "I know the view is so good from there that ye can't tear yerself away, but trust me, we'll learn more inside." He gestured with one hand, but Will didn't follow. Sighing, he walked back to look the boy in the eye. "Tell ol' Jack what's wrong."

Will hesitated, but then he locked eyes with his friend. "I can't go in there. What if he's there?"

"Then that would make this the shortest search in the history of searching." Jack sighed in amazed frustration. "It's unlikely your father's in there. We're just asking around. Come on, lad!" Jack gestured for him to follow.

Will stood where he was. 

"It's not at all likely we'd find 'im in there, mate. Information is what we're after, savvy?" Jack was sympathetic to the boy's predicament. It had to be a daunting moment. The possibility of coming face to face with his father, whom he'd at various times thought was a merchant seaman, dead, a pirate, and undead because of an ancient Aztec curse.

Jack narrowed his eyes, assessing Will's frame of mind. "You need to come along, now, Will. We aren't likely to find your father in there. At least not yet. We go in, we ask a few questions, and then we decide out next move. It'll be alright." He smiled. "You know, you didn't have half so much a problem facing Barbossa, fighting skeletons, or putting a knife to your own throat as you seem to have walkin' into that bar."

The absurdity of what Jack had said, of what they'd all lived through seemed to bring Will back to himself. He offered Jack a grin and a nod, and the three friends walked towards the Painted Parrot.

It was early evening, yet the nightlife of the Painted Parrot was in full swing. Ladies of ill repute were seeking their best bet for a profitable evening among the lads from more than half a dozen ships in port. There was no shortage of candidates, as every table was filled to capacity and beyond.

The sound of laughter and boastful talk mingled to create a wall of sound. The scent of stale beer, rum, and cheap perfume permeated the smoke-laden air, and the dim light from the scattered oil lamps and candles cast oddly shaped, multi-limbed shadows across the walls. 

Jack felt at home immediately. He grinned, then looked to his friends. The grin became a frown. Even dressed in AnaMaria's spare pirate clothes, the girl just seemed too posh for her surroundings. She would draw attention. He could leave her in Will's charge, but the boy was equally out of his element. He turned to Elizabeth. "You stay with me. You don't say a word unless I ask ye to, understand?"

Elizabeth took a breath preparing to unleash a string of words Jack was certain he didn't want to hear. He raised a hand. "It's that or back to the Pearl."

Elizabeth looked to Will, who shrugged. "He knows what he's doing," Will offered.

Elizabeth turned back to Jack. "All right, but we will speak of this later."

"I've no doubt." Jack muttered as he moved through the room towards the bar. 

Once he managed to attract the barman's attention, he ordered rum all around, ignoring the look of disgust on Elizabeth's face. 

When the drinks arrived, Jack held up a coin worth five times their cost. "I was wondering if I could buy a bit more than drink."

The barman's eyes widened and he nodded. "Women? We got the best on the island workin' 'ere."

"No, mate, information would be what I'm after. I'm lookin' for a man named Bootstrap Bill Turner." He waggled the coin in front of the man's eyes.

"Boostrap" the man repeated the word, though it was obvious his every thought was on that coin, or, more likely, what he could do with it. 

With a deft flick of his wrist, Jack hid the coin in the palm of his hand. "Of course, I don't expect he's been here recently, but if you 'ave 'eard where 'e might be, I'd begrateful."

The man was nearly salivating, his eyes only reluctantly pulling away from Jack's hand to look him in the eye. "Oh, aye, Bootstrap's been 'ere."  


Jack smiled at Will, who's eyes were wide as saucers. 

"Did 'e say where 'e'd be goin'? What ship was 'e with?" Jack had been certain William would have been here at some point. It was where they'd come to drink to Nick's memory whenJack shook off the thought. There wasn't time for memories right now.

"'E's between ships right now, or so I'ear."

It took a moment for that to register.

"Jack" Will whispered, breathless anticipation unable to mask the trepidation in his voice.

Jack held up a hand to silence Will. It was the same hand that had palmed the coin upon which the barman's hopes and desires were hung. Consequently, the barman's eyes were glued to it. 

He addressed the barman again. "Right now? Are you sayin' Bootstrap's 'ere?"

The man nodded and reached a hand towards the hand that held that precious coin.

Jack turned abruptly to face Will, moving out of reach, and unaware of the other man's resulting distress. His hand, as was his wont, drew patterns in the air, though Jack was oblivious to the effect this had on the barman. "Take it easy lad" he said to Will, his hand moved up, drawing the barman's eyes with it. "We need more information. Remember" His hand came down level with the bar, still trailed by the hapless man. "We can't just take 'is word for it" With that he swirled around with a great flourish and faced the barman who took a step back and audibly swallowed though his eyes had not lost contact with Jack's hand.

Jack glared at the man, the picture of suspicion. "As a matter of fact, how do we know yer tellin' the truth at all?"

The man, seeing his precious reward slipping further and further from him, tore his eyes from Jack's hand and locked them onto the pirate's face. "Look, ye asked about Bootstrap, an' I told ye about 'im. 'E's in 'ere every night at about 10:00."

"Jack" Will's voice was almost pleading.

Jack turned again to face him not noticing as Elizabeth forced open his hand and gave the grateful barman his coin.

"If this is true, Will, you'll be speakin' to yer ol' man by tonight."

Will looked anything but sure of this. "So, we wait?"

Jack smiled. "Splendid idea!" He raised his rum to his lips, and drank it down.

**

After a few hours at the bar, Jack, Will and Elizabeth were able to move to a table, and Jack kept himself entertained by chatting up several of the barmaids and other ladies who worked at the pub. 

Will, however, found his anxieties increasing the more the night wore on. He was lost so deeply in thought, he didn't realize that Elizabeth was talking to him until she placed her hand on his. 

"Will? I asked if you need to talk."

Will slowly shook his head, but began to speak in spite of that answer. "I'm not feeling well." The admission cost him, for once more, he felt weak in her eyes, but, when he looked at her, he saw only love and support. "I might be meeting my father."

  
She smiled. "I know."

"I don't know what to say–how to act." A cloud descended on his excitement, darkening it, and turning it bitter. "I don't even know why I should care."

"What do you mean? I thought you'd be pleased." Elizabeth, even frowning, was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

"He left me. He never tried to find me"

  
"We don't know that."

Will knew she was trying to help him, that she wanted desperately to help him, but in truth he couldn't say what troubled him. "I need to go out and get some air." He stood, and when she stood with him, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Elizabeth, stay with Jack. I won't be long."

She nodded reluctantly though her eyes followed him as the barman's had followed Jack's coin earlier.

Stepping outside, Will breathed deeply surprised at the difference in the air outside the Painted Parrot. He'd been in there so long, his lung's had grown used to the thick smoke and the smells of sweat and alcohol. Outside, the air was cleaner and carried the faint perfume of tropical flowers. Will could also smell the sea, and the salt seemed a balm for his agitation.

He was just about to return to Elizabeth and Jack when the barman who'd helped them earlier stepped out for a breath as well. Before Will could say anything in greeting, the man slapped him on the shoulder to get his attention and pointed to a shadowy figure who was fast approaching. "That's 'im, mate. If yer lookin' for Bootstrap. There 'e is! "

Will turned, his heart in his throat. Fear of rejection could not stifle the elation he felt at finally laying eyes on his father.

************

Elizabeth tried to keep herself entertained, but Jack's admonition that she not speak still rankled. She wasn't stupid. She could handle herself. Deciding he was certainly preoccupied enough not to miss her for a moment, she walked towards the bar intent on getting something palatable from this bizarre establishment. The rum had been watered down, and the food Jack had ordered wouldn't have been considered good enough for the Governor's hounds back in Port Royal.

She stopped the thoughts of her home knowing to dwell on them would make her mad with worry.

Half way to the bar, she began to doubt the wisdom of her action. While she'd been sitting with Will and Jack, she'd had to endure only a few lecherous stares. Removed from the proximity of her presumed protectors it seemed she was fair game. Taking note of her manly attire they were quick to assume she was a pirate, and she had that at least above the women who worked here. Unsure if she'd be an easy conquest or a quick way to add to the number of scars they already owned, they sidled up to her with a grudging respect–if not for who she was, then for what they assumed her to be.

"Oy, Missy! You need to jump ship, you do! We'll show a lady like you a fine time aboard the _Scarlet Lady_!"

"Naw, don't pay 'im any mind! You've be better off with me, love!"

She ignored all of them, and, finally reaching the bar, asked for a glass of wine.

The barmaid who'd taken over for the man who'd earlier helped them only laughed. "Wine? We might 'ave an old bottle somewhere, but you'd be better off with the ale!"

"Fine then, Ale!" 

  
"Listen to 'er, then, will ya?" The Barmaid called out amidst the laughter of those closest. "What you doin' 'ere, love. With a posh accent like that, piracy shouldn't be in yer blood."

It was then that Elizabeth felt the horrid sensation of a man's hands pinching her bottom. Livid, she spun, the hilt of the dagger AnaMaria had loaned her already in her hand. The man held his hands up, obviously too surprised by the sudden attack to do anything else. 

Elizabeth took a step closer backing the man up several steps with the sheer force of her anger. "What do you think your doing?"

The man regained his composure and glared down at her. "I'm checkin' out the merchandise before I buy."

"I am most certainly not for sale!"

"Everything's for sale." The man declared trying to find a way to sidestep her blade.

"Leave 'er be." A soft voice, deep and sonorous, pierced the calls of encouragement the man's friends shouted to him. Everyone fell silent and turned to the cloaked figure at the end of the bar.

"It's not yer concern." The man declared, and made a grab for Elizabeth, who slashed out with her knife and had the satisfaction of hearing her attacker give a yelp of rage and pain.

The cloaked man stood and stepped to Elizabeth's side, and Elizabeth got a quick glimpse of a bloodstained bandage on his arm before the cloak swung back into place hiding it from view. "She's obviously more than you can 'andle, mate. Leave it while you can."

The other man was going to press the point when another voice came from behind him. "You feel that? That's my sword and my pistol both stuck in your back. Leave the girl alone, or you'll 'ave three of us to fight."

Elizabeth held her breath, dagger at the ready, hoping she wouldn't have to use it. To her delight, the man raised his hands and left the bar.

Jack watched him until he was sure he wasn't going to try anything else, then turned to Elizabeth. "What did I tell you?"

"I wanted some wine," she said holding up the glass of ale he barmaid had placed before her.

"Nice to see you got what you wanted." Jack turned then to face the cloaked man as Elizabeth stewed over his retort. "I want to thank you for your 'elp, mate. I'm"

"Captain Jack Sparrow." The voice said as the man dropped the hood of his cloak.

Jack smiled in absolute joy. "William Turner!" The two men grinned at each other, and embraced. 

*****

Jack turned to Elizabeth. "My dear, may I present William Turner, or as he's sometimes known, Bootstrap Bill."

The barman who'd spoken to them earlier had just returned and overheard the introduction. "That ain't Bootstrap Bill!"

"Are ye daft, man? Of course it is!" Jack glared at the man.

"Naw, it ain't. I just seen 'im outside. I left 'im with your friend." The man tried to move away to return to work, but Jack's hand shot out and held his arm in an iron grip.

"What are you talkin' about?"

Fear widened the man's eyes, and he was beginning to wish the odd group had never entered the bar at all. "The other one! Your friend. The young man! I left 'im outside with Bootstrap Bill!"

"Who was it, Jack?" William asked, curious who would cause Jack Sparrow, of all people, such concern.   


Jack looked William in the eye. "It's your son."

William stared at Jack as if unable to understand for a moment, and then he raced from the Parrot. Jack and Elizabeth followed.

William scanned the quiet street, but there wasn't anyone in sight. Fear was apparent in the way he held himself and in the frantic way he continued to look up and down the street as though the object of his search might appear.

"Your turn, William." Jack's voice was soft, but there was threat behind it. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know now.

"He's been pretending to be me. 'E took my identity. 'E took my reputation. 'E took everything I own. I've been trackin' 'im for more than a year." William hesitated to go on, but finally explained. "Jack, it's Nick."

"Nick?" He didn't ask if William was sure. He knew better than that. 

Elizabeth stared at Jack and demanded answers of her own. "Tell me what's going on, Jack."

"I wish I knew." Jack's quiet whisper belied the fear in the pit of his stomach. 

  
  
To Be Continued

  
Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Yes, he's alive, but with a twist! I hope you like it.

Deana: Thanks! Will has suffered, that's true, but he's a tough kid! 

Inu lover: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!

Lordlanceahlot: Sorry this took so long. Bill is alive, and there's so much more to come!  
  
Emiri-chan: Sorry, that reunion between Bill and Will is going to be delayed! It will come eventually, though. I hope you like this!

  
ErinRua: Sorry this took so long. My muses were most definitely not playing nicely! Your encouragement means so much, though. I will try to keep the updates more timely!

Lady Lunas: Surprise! The Unnamed attacker WAS Bootstrap! I hope you like it!

Kristen Wahlquist: Sorry this took so long. I hope I haven't timed this extra long chapter with your next long drive! 

Catheringxxix: You hit the nail right on the head as far as the relationship I'm working out between Jack and Will. There is definitely a lot we don't know about Jack and Bootstrap's past as well as my OC, Nick. Your flattery is wonderful! I'm glad you enjoy the dialogue and that I'm getting into the characters' heads! Keep reading!

Sweetspy05: hee! I mention that again in this chapter! I'm glad you liked it! I wish Johnny Depp had included that line!

  
Rocky Racoon: Thank you! I haven't had a lot of mentions about the Billy Joel reference. It's been in my head since the first time I saw the movie, and I can't believe it isn't all over the fanfics! Maybe it is by now. I am behind on my reading!

Ping*pong5: Thanks so much! I'm glad you liked it! There's going to be a lot of Bootstrap from this point. I hope you like it!

Unplugged32: I accept your apologies for not reviewing chapter 12. Now PLEASE accept mine for being so late with chapter 14! Please review so I know I still have a reader or two left after my long absence! I'm glad you liked that line. I was trying to keep the dialogue in character!

BrokenSkye: Thanks! I hope you like this chapter!

Hpdancer92: Thanks! More soon! 

  
TheRowan: I'd say Jack was in his early twenties in that flashbackabout the age Will is in the film. I'm happy to reply to reviews, since getting them just about makes my day! I'm thrilled you like my Jack. It's a fine line between making him caring without losing his edge. I'm glad that's coming across. Thanks ever so much for your kind words! I do hope I haven't alienated you (or any of my other readers by taking so long on this chapter!) Please read and review!


	15. part 15

****

A Pirate's Life and Death part 15 by Ecri

  
See disclaimer in part one.

Thanks to all who have reviewed!

Will thanked the barman as he walked towards the figure he'd pointed out. Will handed him a small coin, which brought a smile to the man's face. "No trouble, mate."

When they finally reached the dark figure, Will saw dark hair, dark eyes, and a man who was obviously a pirate. He cleared his throat to speak, but did not know what to say.

The barman slapped the other man on the shoulder. "Look ere, Bootstrap. This lad's been waitin' for ye."

Bootstrap eyes him suspiciously. "What did ye want, lad?"

Will blinked, his eyes going slightly wide. What did he want? He wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. He had no idea what to say to the man. _Hello, I'm your son_, or _Nice to meet you, you're my father._ No. Best leave it simple. Words like son and father would carry too much emotion for two strangers. 

"I'm Will. Will Turner." He waited for the inevitable understanding.

"You're Will Turner?" Bootstrap asked. 

Will nodded. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, the barman taking that chance to slip away.

"You're Will Turner." Bootstrap said again, though this time it wasn't a question.

Will nodded again, but could take the silence no longer. "I know you're looking for Jack. I've been traveling with him, and" Will was not prepared for the sudden reaction his words tore from the older man.

"Jack? Jack Sparrow?"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," Will corrected automatically wondering why that brought a scowl to the man'sto his father'sface.

"Well, me boy, why don't you come with me. We'll get to know one anotherson." Bootstrap put a hand across Will's shoulders and held him tightly steering him deeper into the town.

Will stopped walking, trying to turn back to the Painted Parrot. "We can'tI mean, Jack's inside, and Elizabeth" It seemed to him then that he'd said something terribly wrong. 

"Jack's in there?" Bootstrap gestured towards the Painted Parrot, and took a tentative step towards the establishment. "With some tart?"

Will's indignation at such an epithet being applied to Elizabeth even in ignorance forced him to plant his feet firmly and reach for his weapon, though he soon realized he could not draw on his own father. He stayed his hand. "Yes, he's inside, but he's not with a tart. He's"

Bootstrap cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Come, lad, then let's get acquainted." He put his arm around Will's shoulders again, but this time Will would not be moved. 

"Don't you want to go in and say hello? We've been looking for you" Will let the thought trail as he studied the man for the first time. Standing closer to the Painted Parrot where the light was better, he saw Bootstrap's features more plainly. Brown hair, brown eyes, butsomething wasn't right. Will recalled Jack's words to him when they had first sailed from Port Royal to find Elizabeth. He'd called Will the spitting image of his father. 

Will had told Jack then that he wasn't a simpleton, and he wasn't blind, either. This man looked nothing like him. Placing his hand back on the hilt of his sword, he drew it taking a step back to give himself both more room to strike, and a bit of distance from his opponent. "You aren't Bootstrap Bill Turner."

The man smiled, but it was a smile of cold calculation rather than of joy. "That depends on yer interpretation. That's my identity now, lad. I may not be the original, but I am the latest edition." The man took a step forward, but he hadn't yet drawn his own weapon. "I was with Bootstrap for the last several years. When 'e died, I took 'is name. Sort of to 'onor 'im like."

  
Will hesitated, and his eyes darkened with sorrow and regret. "He's dead." It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement that was reluctant to take itself as true. His father was dead. After all this, he hadn't wanted to believe it could be possible. Fate had taunted him with thoughts that, after all this time, he might actually meet the man, and now he was denied the chance again. His eyes snapped up again to lock on the man's as his sword came up to chest level. "You knew him?" 

"Did I know Bootstrap? Oh, lad, that's like askin' the wind if it can carry the scent of the sea!" He laughed, but it was a harsh sound, as if he had long ago forgotten what it meant to laugh in joy.

"When did he die? How did it happen?" Will's sword didn't waver.

The man eyed the blade warily, but spoke as though it wasn't there. "He died but a year ago. It was a bar brawl. He'd been beaten pretty badly, and still his last words were that he had to get well and go lookin' for 'is son! He was thinking of ye lad!"

For just a moment, Will's heart surged with love for the man he would never meet. That he'd been thinking of himWill's eyes hardened, and the blade, which had once again dipped, drew up straight and steady.

"You lie. Tell me what happened to William Turner!"

Almost immediately a change came over the man before him. He stood straighter and his smile disappeared. "Or what, lad?" 

The humorless laugh sounded again chasing a chill up and down Will's spine.

The man drew his own sword, and, in a moment, the two circled each other. Though, instead of facing an honorable opponent, Will knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he faced a blood enemy. Circling, he kept his eyes on the other man's face, taking the measure of him and looking for some hint as to what move this faux Bootstrap would make first. 

The man was larger than Will, and the strength of his muscles was obvious even through the concealing cloth of his shirt and cloak. The man leaned forward just as he slashed at Will in a move as inelegant as it was rash. Will took a step back, his own blade blocking the blow and offering one of his own. Practiced and graceful, his blow had more edge to it than any might expect from just the look of him, and the other man's arm flew hard to the right with the force of it.

Angered, the man who'd claimed the identity of Bootstrap Bill Turner began the fight in earnest. If not by skill, then by rage alone, he would emerge the victor.

Will fought fiercely, his own rage that someone would claim his father's identity, perhaps have killed him for it, fueled his own considerable skills. Of the two, he was, without doubt, the better swordsman. His movements, fluid and graceful, however, began to falter as fatigue leeched his strength. _Three hours a day_, he thought_. I once practiced three hours a day._ His strength and stamina then had seemed boundless, as things often do in youth. 

Now, his muscles shook with the effort to hold his sword level, and each blow he managed to strike was weaker than the last. Finally, his opponent's strength and anger succeeded in tearing his blade from his hand. Will watched in wide-eyed disbelief as it flew from his hand to land in the dirt a few feet away. Almost immediately, his eyes came back to the man who stood before him holding a blade tip steady at his throat. 

Will held his hands up in a gesture of surrender though he was loath to do it. He could not win if he had no weapon. He waited until the other man lowered his own weapon, and when he had, Will took a hesitant step back.

The man didn't say a word, so he took another. The man stood between him and the Painted Parrot and any assistance he might expect. He couldn't get back to the bar, but perhaps he could break away and circle back once the man had gone. When the man just stared at him, he moved as thought to take another step, but the sword point came up again.

"Don't be gettin' any ideas, lad." The man warned and his words stopped Will in his tracks. 

With great effort, Will concealed the fatigued trembling of his limbs cursing his fate that he had not yet regained his full strength from his illness. Stilling their quivering, he kept an eye upon this man who he knew meant to kill him, or perhaps use him against Jack. He would not be a pawn. Not now! Not again! He would die before he would allow another to use him. He waited until the tip of the man's sword dipped just a bit, then, with a great lunge, threw himself to the ground, scooped up a handful of loose dirt and stone, and tossed it into the man's eyes. Not waiting to see the effect, he ran from the man, spurred by adrenaline and disappeared into the town. 

After he had gone some distance, he slipped into a darkened building. He would have gone straight to the Black Pearl, but the cloaked stranger had been closer to the docks. He could not risk running past him. In the dark stillness of the late night, he stilled his labored breathing. He would just wait here until he could breathe evenly. Then he would return to the Parrot and find Jack and Elizabeth. Jack would have to know about this man.

**

Nick could find no relief from the burning and itching of his eyes. The irritants might well no longer be there, but he had rubbed his eyes so fiercely that they were no longer needed. While stumbling blindly in front of the bar, his foot made contact with something, and despite his agony, he blinked at it until he could make it out.

  
The whelp's sword lay at his feet and the sight of it gave birth to a notion that made him grin even in the face of his physical agony. He picked it up, and, still rubbing his eyes, headed around the back of the Painted Parrot. The lad might well return looking for Jack, and he would be ready.

Jack Sparrow was here, and knowing the good Captain, he would find Bootstrap. Then, Sparrow and Turner would likely try to find him. Well and good, but he would not be without assets in any resulting negotiation. 

**

Jack whirled around to stare at William Turner. Truth be told, he'd never thought to be standing across from the man again, and to find him here, alive and well, almost overwhelmed him. Except for the one inescapable fact that the reunion was not what it should have been.

"William, as good as it is to see you, there's too much goin' on now to 'ave the reunion we might 'ave wished. What's this about Nick?"

William sighed, and it was a weary sound indeed. "Nick's alive, mate. One night, not long after I'd visited with Ol' Joe, I realized I was bein' followed. It stopped for a time, but always when I would put into a port I would hear tales of the doings of Bootstrap Bill' and the tales were things I'd not done!"

  
Jack shrugged that off. "Such is the lot of a pirate. Often 'ave I 'eard tell of the doings of Captain Jack Sparrow! Once I was told a tale in all seriousness that my crew, under my command, 'ad managed to sink no less than five ships of the line!"

William shook his head. "It was more than that! I was being accosted for debts that were not mine, bein' told that I couldn't join a crew because my reputation told them I was dishonorable. I could do nothing. I could earn no living." 

Jack took a step closer. "Go on, then, mate." He knew William well enough, even if they hadn't seen each other in years, to know he was reaching a point in his story where he'd be just as likely to go mute as to share details. Proper urging was needed if he was to learn what was going on.

"One night in Tortuga, I noticed I was bein' followed again. I turned to confront the man, and that was when I realized it was Nick." William's eyes took on a haunted look. "I thought 'im dead, and said as much. Nick only laughed. He drew 'is sword and said 'e would 'ave all I owned. 'E wanted my life. My identity. We fought, but 'e 'ad a dagger and distracted me with it. Ran me through. Then 'e took all I 'ad."

"All?" Jack asked, his thoughts held by memory of the item Ol' Joe had once held.

"Aye." The Elder Turner looked at Jack, knowing what was going through his mind. "'E took all I had, including what I held that once belonged to the three of us"

Jack opened his mouth, but stopped when Elizabeth suddenly inserted herself between him and his old friend. "What's going on, Jack? Who's this Nick person, and what about Will? Where is he?"

Jack saw the fear in her eyes, heard it in her voice. It would have been impossible to miss it. He took her by the shoulders. "I'm workin' on it, love. Trust me." He held her gaze for a moment, and when he was sure she wasn't going to take off to find him on her own, or have some sort of fit in front of his face, he nodded once, and turned to William.

"There's more goin' on 'ere, mate. You say Nick's taken yer identity, well, 'e's taken more than that." Jack didn't like to repeat it, so he waited for William's tired mind to remember what he'd said moments before.

William's eyes widened, so alike to his son's gestures of incredulity that, for a moment, Jack's heart skipped a beat.

"My son! Jack, was it really?"

Jack smiled knowing William had long ago given up any chance of meeting the boy himself. That was why he'd left the box with Joe. He let his own pride and affection for the boy come through as he spoke. "Aye, William, it was indeed, and a better lad ye couldn't 'ave 'oped for."

"Nick's got my boy." William again scanned the area searching for Will though he had to know he wasn't there. "It's all he needs." He turned to Jack, desperation in his eyes. "Jack, we got to get 'im back! Nick's not right in the 'ead."

"Considerin' I thought 'im dead, I'd say that's a bit of an improvement. Come on, William. Let's go back to the Pearl and you can tell me all about it." Jack steered William towards the docks.

"Ye got the Pearl back! Oh, Jack, that must be quite a tale!" William declared as his eyes still searched for any shadow that might be his son.

"Well, it ain't a snoozer I can tell ye that!" He caught Elizabeth's glance and nodded once. He hope that she understood. He wouldn't leave without Will Turner. Even if it meant his life or his ship.

**  
  
Elizabeth tried to keep calm. Inside, part of her screamed for Will. They had only just been reunited. He had only just recovered himself. He couldn't be in the hands of yet another madman. Why was it there were so many insane pirates, and why did they all have to torment Will Turner? She knew Barbossa had been her private tormentor, but he had laid hands on Will, too, once he realized she wasn't William Turner's child. Barbossa had wanted his blood. Killian had wanted his life. Now, there was some scalawag named Nick, and the Lord alone—or perhaps Jack Sparrow—knew what he wanted.

Elizabeth saw the resemblance between Will and his father. It would have been impossible not to see it. William was older, certainly, and perhaps slightly broader, but they seemed of a height, and there was a similarity in the eyes and in the facial expressions that was disconcerting. Here, she realized, is what Will would look like in the years to come. He was a handsome man, and she had always known that would tell in the end. His attractiveness was more than looks, however. He was a caring man, a loving man, and, he was her man. The thought of never seeing him again filled her heart with such fear that it thumped loudly and rapidly until she was sure it would hop right out of her chest.

Will was out here somewhere with another madman. She listened as she walked, for she could hear William Senior and Jack discussing this Nick person who likely held her Will. They seemed to have known him for sometime, and Elizabeth could only suppose that something had broken a long-standing friendship.

She heard William speaking in a voice not unlike her Will's though the senior Turner's accent was more unrefined, more clipped. He spoke as a man who'd lived his life on the sea, and lacked the polish of his son, though she knew none in her circle back home would consider her blacksmith polished.

"I tell ye, Jack, I've caught up with 'im a time or two, and tried to take back what was mine. I couldn't get it. 'E's turned a bit vicious in 'is ways as you might say. 'E's mad as a hatter and 'e's out for revenge. 'E thought you dead, as I did, meself, I'm ashamed to say, and he was content to torment me. Each time I caught up with the brigand, 'e would let me get so closesometimes close enough to touch what he'd taken from meand then 'e'd make sure to put me back down once more." He shook his head and Elizabeth saw a hard man, a man who'd seen too much, and lost too much, and he looked less and less like her own Will. 

Then he turned to Jack, a pleading look in his eye. A look that begged for help in some predicament he could not have foreseen, and the resemblance to her love was uncanny enough to make her gasp. "Jack, ye've got ta 'elp me get 'im back!"

Jack was nodding. "Aye, I know that well enough, William. Nick always was a bit too ready for a fight, and a bit too willing to exact what revenge 'e thought owed 'im." He lowered his voice, and Elizabeth had to strain to hear it. "Between you, me, and the full moon, Will's not goin' down easy. That lad 'as a bit of fight in 'imthough, William, 'e ain't quite in top notch form."

She listened as Jack told William about Killian, and, by the time they reached the end of the tale, the Black Pearl was in sight. Elizabeth felt something close to relief to see the familiar shape of the dear old ship sitting proud at the dock. Her relief was not what it would have been if they had not lose Will somewhere out there.

  
Just as she thought of him, she saw a dark shape ahead of her. She wondered who it was, and her heart leaped at the thought that it might be her Will. She took a step forward, but Jack's hand caught her wrist in a grip like a vise. She looked up at him a question on her lips that died a quick death when she caught sight of his eyes. They had narrowed and focused on the dark shape, and all trace of the insanity that habitually claimed his eyes was gone.

  
She turned then, following his gaze and realized that the dark shape held another shape before him. He held a man by the shoulders, slightly slumped as though unconscious, or nearly so. Before she could make sense of it, a voice, cold and commanding rang out through the clear night air.

"That'll be far enough. One more step, and I slit the lad's throat."

  
Elizabeth gasped to hear Nick's voice, though the sight of Will barely keeping his feet was less appalling than the sound that escaped him. A gasp as though of great pain came to her, and she dared to turn away from Will to be sure that Jack and William had followed the man's orders. She was quite prepared to throw herself at them if need be.

To her relief both men stood still as stone beside her, though the glower in William's eyes was matched by the seething stare Jack leveled at his one time friend.

"Aye, that's it." Nick said, taking a careful step backward, and allowing Will's head to loll forward until his chin hit his chest. 

Elizabeth strained for a look at his face, hoping she could judge his condition, but she could see nothing but shadow and folds of cloth.

"Jack, me old mate!" Nick called out almost jovially. "It's a fine fate it is that led me to you! I'd thought ye dead, man! I thought ye dead!" He cackled, a hoarse broken laugh belonging to a man twice his age and in much shakier health. "I've got the last thing that belongs to William Turner, and I suppose it's the one thing that will get me Jack Sparrow, as well!" He laughed again, his grip tightening on the dark figure he held.

"What is it you want, Nick." Jack spoke softly, his eyes still narrowed, but a menace and danger in his tone that Elizabeth had never heard before.

"What do I want? I'm surprised ye haven't guessed. I want ye and Bootstrap to take me to that dear little item we 'id. I should never 'ave agreed to it, mate, for as soon as it was a done deal, ye both conspired against me! Ye practically 'anded me over to Killian!" His eyes were wide and round, and full of a rage the likes of which Elizabeth had never seen before.

"That's not 'ow it was, Nick!" William called out to the Pirate. "Ye know it wasn't! Jack 'ad an 'ard time of it, and did wot 'e could!"

Nick's laughter was even louder, and the sound of it sent chills down Elizabeth's spine.

"That's not 'ow it looked from my end! Ye plotted against me! Ye planned it from the beginning. Ye knew what I shared wi'ye was all I 'ad in the world! I told ye as much, more fool was I!" He took a step forward, rage robbing reason, and only stepped back again when his movement brought the man he held to his knees. Securing a better hold on the younger man, he wrenched the boy painfully to his feet, but the captive never gained consciousness.

"Nick, let the boy go, and you and I can 'ave a talk. I'll 'and over anything that's mine to give." Jack's words surprised Elizabeth, but she was ashamed of herself almost instantly. She'd always known he had a soft spot in his heart for Will Turner, and this was proof. She knew that if Nick said the word, Jack would trade even his precious Black Pearl for Will's life.

"That's not the way it's goin' ta be, mate. I want ye ta take me to it! Take me to the thing we 'id all those years ago. Once it's mine, I'll give ye back the boy, and all the things I've taken from 'is old man." He stopped speaking an reached behind himself. "'Ere. As a show of good faith, I'll give ye 'is sword right now." He tossed what he held in his hand and it hit the ground with a thump sending up a cloud of dust in the dry earth.

  
Jack stepped forward and picked up the weapon, and Elizabeth realized at the same time he did, that it was the sword Jack had loaned Will once he'd become well enough to stand. She saw Jack close his eyes where he knelt in the dirt for a moment, but when he stood again, all signs of emotion were forced back deep inside whatever place Jack usually hid them.

Jack turned to her. "William and I 'ave to do as 'e says. We'll be back for ye." 

  
Elizabeth felt her mouth move up and down for a moment, before she finally found words. "You will not be back for me, Jack Sparrow! I am coming along!"

"No, yer not! I won't give 'im another weapon to use against us." He caught her eyes. "I have to do this. Will would"

"I'm coming with you! There is no way you leave me in some pirate's hiding place and go off for who knows how long! I am coming with you!" To her surprise, he nodded. 

"I 'aven't the time to argue. Come along, then, but you do as you're told." 

It was her turn to nod. She didn't want him to change his mind, and they would discuss her doing as she was told once they were under way. 

It took only a few moments. They were aboard, Nick securing himself in Jack's cabin, and Jack and William heading to round up the crew. They'd be leaving at daybreak, and Elizabeth could only breathe a sigh of relief that, whatever they faced, at least they were all together.

**

Nick stared at Jack Sparrow, not at all certain if the man would take his offer, or if he might see through his bluff. When the Captain knelt to retrieve the sword, Nick knew he'd won. Jack had agreed quickly enough, and William had remained oddly silent. The girl had argued her way aboard, and Nick was fairly certain he could use that to his advantage. 

Demanding they leave at first light, he'd locked himself and his hostage in Sparrow's quarters. Once securely behind the locked door, he tossed the limp body to the floor. He'd be keeping the bed for himself. He checked the man he held, and congratulated himself that they hadn't seen fit to verify the lad's identity. They'd have been right astonished if they knew they'd be leaving in the morning with the wrong young lad aboard.

  
It wasn't important to his plans that he have Bootstrap's son, only that they thought he had William junior. He pulled the cloak away from the man's face smirking into the pain filled eyes of the Painted Pirate's barman. By the time the man became coherent, they'd be well on their way. By which time, Nick would knock the man out again. If he ended up dead, well, Nick had done worse in his life than kill some barman no one would miss.

Yes, he thought, things were working out better than he'd have thought when he woke up this morning. Things had indeed taken a delightful turn.

**

Once aboard the Pearl, Jack settled William in Will's kit, and poured him a bit of rum. "To old friends." Jack raised his own glass, and, after a moment, William followed suit.

"My boy" he whispered the words, but then brought his eyes up to meet Jack's. "Tell me about 'im, Jack. What's my boy like?"

Jack smiled, and poured another shot for each of them. "He goes by the name of Will. I knew he was your lad. He was familiar right away, and when I saw him through those cell bars"

"Was my boy in prison?" William seemed surprised.

  
Jack laughed. "Nah, mate, that was me! Your boy broke me out when 'e realized I might be able to 'elp 'im." 

He took a breath then and explained how he'd met Will and had nearly lost a duel to the boy, though he was nearly twice the lad's age and certainly more experienced in swordplay. He hadn't wanted to explain about Barbossa. He'd hoped Will would do most of that. Somehow, he thought it might be easier for William to handle the danger he'd put his son in if he was able to see at the same time that his son was alive and well. 

By the time he'd reached the end of the tale, explained about the hanging and the subsequent escape, William was beaming. 

"Fancy that," he whispered. "My lad doin' all that!"

Jack nodded, his own pride in the boy's accomplishments and fortitude apparent. "Will's a fine one, all right."

"Jack," William interrupted, "Does Will understand why I left 'im and 'is mum all those years ago?"

  
"I don't really know, mate. 'E's a smart lad. I don't think 'e 'olds you a grudge."

William nodded, but didn't seem to believe the words. He cast his gaze around at the hammock and the meager possessions that were his sons. Catching sight of a familiar box, he pulled it from the sack it had sat atop. "Is this"

"Aye. I saw Ol' Joe. 'E gave me that for Will."

William drew in a shaky breath, and, whether from the rum, the sight of the box, or some deep denied emotion he wouldn't name, he clutched the box to his chest and closed his eyes denying his tears the chance to escape.

Jack, loath to witness something with which he could not help, patted his friend on the shoulder and left him alone with his thoughts.

**

Will had not intended to fall asleep. Indeed, he was not even aware he had done so until someone shook him. 

"Oy! Wot ye doin' lad? Ye can't stay there! Get up, ye miserable sod!"

Blinking his eyes at the words and the accompanying too-tight grip upon his shoulders, Will struggled to rise before he was quite aware of his surroundings. Blinking rapidly, he took in the sight of a large man glaring at him in suspicion. It took a moment, but Will finally recalled what had happened.

"Forgive me!" He called to the man, struggling to free himself from the man's grip. "II meant no harm."

The large man glared at him, then looked around as if to be certain his unwelcome guest had not caused any such harm, intentionally or no. He grunted at Will, who assayed a wan smile. "Iwas accosted by a pirate last night. I hid here. I meant no harm."

  
He wanted to offer to pay for any trouble, but he didn't seem to have anything with him, and he'd lost his sword last night. He had to get back to the Pearl and explain to Jack what had happened. It was obvious to him that someone was masquerading as his father. That man was not William Turner. He was certain of that much at least. For one thing, there was no resemblance between himself and the older man. Jack had assured him that he looked just like his father. For another thing, he was certain that William Turner hadn't died thinking of how he had to go and find his son. He'd had well over 20 years to find and get to know his son, and for the first 13, Will had been right where William Turner Senior had left him. 

No, Willliam Turner, or Bootstrap Bill, had likely met his end thinking of the sea or of the Pearl, or of his good friend Jack Sparrow. 

He wasn't bitter about it. He was getting quite used to being easily forgotten, easily left behind. It wasn't something he'd even blame his father for. Why should his last thoughts be for a son he'd never known? Why, indeed.

The large man whose establishment he'd inadvertently slept in glared at him, but set him on his feet. "A pirate 'costed ye, did 'e?" He lauged. "Well, if ye want to 'ide 'ere for a bit, that's fine, but ye'll 'ave to pay yer way." He gestured behind him. "I don't s'pose ye know anythin' about runnin' a smithy, do ye?"

Will looked where the man gestured and saw that he had indeed hidden himself in a blacksmith's shop. He'd thought he dreamed the smells of burning wood, coal, and hot steel that had tickled both his nose and his memory, but no. It had been real.

"I doI do indeed, butI need to get back to my friends. Tell them where I am" The man's wrist clamped down on his own, and Will didn't doubt the other blacksmith could snap his bone like a twig if he so desired. "But, well, I could fire up the forge for you first, if that would be payment enough."

The man smiled a nearly toothless smile, and gestured for Will to precede him to the coal pile.

**

AnaMaria watched the fist blush of dawn claim the sky, and wished she'd found a way to check on Will's condition at the very least. Jack had sent her to Nick with water and food and a few bandages, but she had returned to tell him she hadn't been allowed to see Will. Nick had taken the supplies and promised to see to Will's injuries, but he wouldn't let her near the lad.

She'd apologized, but Jack had assured her that he hadn't expected anymore than that. She knew they'd be underway soon, and the thought rankled. They'd been pirated by a pirate, and would be forced to do his bidding by the fact that he held their friend. She wasn't sure when Will Turner had become her friend, but she found it surprising. She hadn't had a friend who wasn't a pirate in a long time, though, she supposed, most pirates weren't what you could consider friends.

  
Jack was a different sort though, and she knew it by the way he made her smile. Even though he'd stolen her ship, she'd had no choice but to come back to him in the end. There was usually little she could do for him that he couldn't do for himself, but in this case, in payment for so much she figured she owed him, she would do what she could for Will Turner.

  
Of course, she realized, that probably extended to Elizabeth, for what affected her, affected the Turner lad. She would have to teach the Governor's daughter to be less high born and more of a pirate lass if she was going to keep herselffor her Will. Ana's primary concern, however, was to get in that cabin and get a look at Will. She saw quite a bit of blood, though she hadn't mentioned it to Jack. It would only upset him.

She vowed she would get a peek later, and if he was still bleeding, then she'd talk to Jack. For now, she'd just wait for an opportune moment.

**

Elizabeth hovered near the door to Jack's cabin listening for some word, some sign that Will was awake and alert. If she could just hear his voice she would breathe easier. She'd seen AnaMaria coming from inside earlier, but the woman had told her that she hadn't been allowed to tend to Will.

Disappointed, she wanted nothing more than to march in there and insist she be allowed to see to his condition. He had only just been returning to her, and to realize he was trapped within those four walls once again, perhaps in great pain, was almost unbearable for her. She remembered seeing him joining the crew in some of their chores. He'd seemed to take some pleasure in it, though whether that was the pleasure of activity after so long in a sick bed, or joy in the act of sailing, she hadn't asked. She realized some part of her had feared the answer, for, though she loved him, and had been enamored of the idea of piracy in her youth, she realized the sea, the pirate blood, might well take him from her. 

Why she thought that here when it had never crossed her mind while they'd been in Port Royal she couldn't say. Perhaps he had seemed more at ease here than she'd thought he would. Perhaps he had seemed less in control at home. 

She knew her father wasn't making it easy on him, and Norrington, though he'd graciously accepted her decision, had not been happy to realize that her affections belonged not only to another, but also to a blacksmith.

Will loved her. She knew that, but he reaffirmed it each time he willingly ignored some comment by someone who thought they knew what was best for a Governor's Daughter. It was when she saw in his eyes that he was far happier himself when that element of his life was gone that she realized what it was doing to him.

  
She would not have him feeling inferior to the sorts of people who made such remarks. None of them were fit to polish the swords he made.

That still sometimes astonished her. He had learned, in the short time they'd known each other, to make such things. What had she learned? While he forged weapons of unsurpassed worth, she learned to dance. While he fashioned tools and objet d'art with a skill and love of the craft she would never have recognized if she hadn't seen the passion, the pride he felt for his work, she had learned manners, etiquette, and how to speak French. 

Whether it be a sword, a dagger, a horseshoe, a pair of door hinges, bowls, cups, belts, or any of the myriad things she'd seen him turn out of a glob of heated metal, he enjoyed the craft. He respected it, and he understood it better than most men ever understood their own lines of work. 

  
She had not been blessed of that same joy in what she had learned. The craft of women or her own social standing was how to catch a suitable husband. What pride could she feel in a skill like that, especially since she hadn't truly mastered it?

Will Turner far surpassed any and all men she'd ever met. She would make sure he knew how she felt. She would make sure he understood how deeply she cared for him. 

  
Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw Jack heading for his Cabin. She watched him, hearing him tell Nick that they'd be underway soon, and asking if he could check on Will. He got the answer she'd expected, and Nick had insisted that Will was fine, and he would let Jack see once they were well underway.

It made her uneasy, and she could tell from the look in Jack's eyes, it made him no less so. She moved to his side, pleased for once to be wearing AnaMaria's borrowed clothes rather than those ridiculous and cumbersome dresses she'd once worn aboard ship.

  
"Jack, can we trust him?" She had to know, and she didn't have anyone else to ask.

  
He looked at her, sorrow in his eyes. "No, love, not as far as Cotton's parrot could throw 'im."

"But, Will"

"I'll get in there one way or another, Elizabeth. I promise ye that." He was about to walk away, and she again grabbed his arm. 

"Is Bootstrap Bill all right?"

"Call 'im William. He prefers it, and yes, he's awake and alert, and feelin' a bit foolish. I'd leave 'im for a bit if I were you."

  
She didn't want to do that. She wanted to get to know him. She wanted to ask how he could leave his son and not once come to find him. She wanted to know how he could do such a thing, and then send him a token that nearly had gotten him killed. She didn't understand it. 

Elizabeth trusted Jack, though, and if he thought it best, then she'd do as he suggestedjust this once.

**

Will had started the fire, cleaned out the remains of yesterday's smithing, fetched water for the cooling of the swords, and several things that rightly should have been done the night before before finally managing to break free from the smithy himself. The blacksmith had taken advantage, but Will had hardly been in a position to complain. He thought perhaps he should return to the Painted Parrot, but surely, even here, a pub would be closed so soon after dawn. Taking quick strides, he headed instead to the docks. If Jack and Elizabeth weren't aboard the Pearl, he could wait for them there.

As he neared the Pearl's berth, a fear and surprise gripped his heart. He broke into a run, expecting at any moment to see the sight before him shift, for surely it was his perspective that made this impossible thing seem to be true.

  
He reached the dock and stood staring out at the Black Pearl as she made her way towards the horizon. Jack and Elizabeth had left him stranded in a Pirate Port without a penny to his name. The thought left him numb and cold even as the first caress of the sun began to warm his skin.

To Be Continued

ErinRua: Thanks! I was afraid I'd lost my must entirely, but was I thrilled I'd kept trying when she finally showed up. I admit to some trepidation as well. Everyone seemed to like the idea of Bootstrap, that I wasn't certain the switch would be accepted. (I'd had that little plot twist in mind from the moment I'd introduced the idea that Bootstrap was alive, though, so I couldn't just give it up!) I'm glad you liked it. It's flattering coming from such a fine POTC author!

Ping*pong5: I'm glad you enjoyed the switch. I've got a lot planned for Nick, and I am relieved that my must is cooperating. I'm hoping to keep up these longer chapters, but I guess I'll just have to see how things go. Of course, I was disappointed that Johnny didn't get the Oscar, but—and this might be just the way I interpreted things—Johnny looked relieved! I'd have chosen Bill Murray over Sean Penn, though, but then Mystic River isn't my cup of tea.

The Black Pearl is Freedom: Thanks! Keep reading and reviewing!

TheRowan: Thanks, I do appreciate that. I know Jack doesn't have great luck with friends, but I've got more details of the Nick thing. They really were great friends. It's just some details that haven't quite come up yet. Probably in the next chapter. I did not realize how many exclamation marks I used in my reviews. I will make a conscious effort to tone that down. As for the Billy Joel reference, in one of the earlier chapters, I forget which, I had Jack say to Elizabeth, "Captain Jack will get you by tonight. He'll take you to your special Island." Which is of course a line from the Billy Joel song Captain Jack. I am a HUGE (or as West Wing fans say YUUUUUGE) Billy Joel fan.

LordLanceahlot: Hi and welcome back to POTC fic! If you want to read some great fics, check out ErinRua's The African Star! Excellent! (Oops! There go those exclamation marks! My bad.) I liked writing the Will and Elizabeth kiss scene as much as everyone seems to have enjoyed it. There's way more Nick backstory coming. I promise. It's okay to hate him, but he wasn't always a bad guy.

Voy222: I'm glad you like it. I think there may have been a problem with fanfiction.net, because it doesn't end with your'. I've checked and it looks okay here. If it is still reading like that let me know, because I'll have to report the bug to the website. Thanks for the feedback.

Catherinexxix: Thanks for that. I went through so many different versions of that line that it ceased to have meaning for me. I'm glad it came through. Actually, I put in a lot of work on all the passages you've cited, and it's a relief when someone points them out. I thank you for your attention to detail in your review. Please keep reading and reviewing.

Mellaithwen-JediKnightess: See, I believed you when you said you knew it. I am always under the impression that my plot twists are obvious, probably because I see them coming. I'm glad you liked it. I hope the author alerts work this time.

Jackfan2: I can't believe you got an author alert for a chapter you haven't read, either, especially this one! I myself got 19 author alerts for the same chapter of an LOTR story I've been following and it drove me nuts. It seems fanfiction.net has cleared up the problem, and it is a relief, isn't it? I am glad you like the moments aboard the Pearl between Jack and Will and between Ana and Elizabeth. I put those things in mainly for myself, so it's always a pleasure to discover someone else likes them. I haven't yet decided about Ana and Jack, though I am leaning in that direction. Yes, Nick will be all over the place from this point on. Lots to reveal and all that, and definitely more flashbacks. Thanks for the review.

Lady Lunas: More mystery to come. I will get to the Box much later, but I will get to it. Nick's reasons for impersonating Bootstrap will be elaborated on very soon.

BrokenSkye: Thanks. I've got plenty more. Please keep reading and reviewing.


	16. part 16

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end.

****

A Pirate's Life and Death part 16

****

By Ecri

William Turner, Sr. stared at the lovely woman Jack was insisting was engaged to his son. He shook his head, though he smiled, in disbelief. "I'm not so foolish and far gone that I could believe a thing like that, Jack Sparrow!"

Elizabeth smiled and tried to reassure him. "It's true, Mr. Turner. Your son and I are in love." She blushed at the confession, for she rarely said the words aloud to anyone other than to Will directly, and they sounded strange, yet full of joy, to her.

She waited for his response and was a bit surprised when he didn't say anything for a moment. Hating the silence, she spoke herself. "Will is a wonderful man."

William glanced at Jack as though for reassurance and turned back to Elizabeth when he got a nod from his old friend. He smiled at the girl. "You an' Willhe goes by Will does 'e?" She nodded and he continued. "You an' Will, are courtin'?"

"We are." She said it quickly for she'd become accustomed to doing so. She'd found the speed and vehemence of an answer to such a question could well stave off hints and suggestions that she find someone more suited to her status.

William's eyes narrowed a bit at the hasty bark of a reply she'd given him, but he said nothing about it. "You're abit out of h'is league, if you'll excuse me sayin' so, Miss."

"Actually" Elizabeth smiled as she thought of Will and how much he meant to her, and of how much he had already done soley for her sake. "It's the other way around." 

She relished the look on his face then. Shocked and startled that a woman of her social standing would suggest that a young man like Will Turner was her better, William Turner, AKA Bootstrap Bill, looked her in the eye and asked another question, though this was one she didn't want to consider. "Will'ow bad d'ya think he was? Was 'e 'urtin' much when last ye seen 'im?"

Elizabeth wanted to reassure the man, but she couldn't give him false hope. "He was well when he left the Painted Parrot."

William nodded. "Then the shape 'e's in now is all down to Nick's doin'."

Elizabeth followed William's quick glance towards Jack who nodded though he seemed reluctant to do so. She wasn't sure what sort of history they shared with this madman who'd holed himself up in Jack's quarters with Will insisting they travel onwards to find some unnamed mysterious object none of them would discuss with her.

Will's condition worried her more than she cared to think about. Nick hadn't allowed anyone to see him. He accepted food and water at the door and left empty dishes in the same place. They occasionally could hear a whispered conversation, and Elizabeth was certain she'd heard several groans last night, but there was no way they could assess his injuries.

She worried that Nick might have drugged him, and feared whatever effects they might cause might well be worsened by Will's recent bout with Killian's schemes. She could not help but wonder how it could be that she could be torn from him again so soon after being reunited with him. She recalled their kiss on the deck of the Pearl and, closing her eyes, could almost taste him again.

A tear slid beneath her closed lash, and a moment later, she felt a light tentative touch on her elbow. She opened her eyes to see Jack staring down at her. She swallowed the emotions that seemed lodged in her throat with her heart that would surely have sent more tears racing down her cheeks. She ignored the wet trail of the single tear trying to pretend it hadn't fallen from her eye, that it was a rain drop from a cloudless Caribbean sky or that it didn't exist at all, but Jack didn't allow that.

  
One hand cupped her cheek and his thumb gently wiped the moisture away. "'Ere, none of that. We'll" He paused and when he spoke again, it was just as gently, but with a fierce streak of determination. "_I'll _get your Will back to you. I won't let Nick 'arm 'im." He looked at William who nodded.

  
"Nor will I. I've waited years to meet me own lad, and I won't 'ave Nick cheatin' me of the chance!" He glanced toward the door to Jack's quarters from which none of the threesome had strayed far in the last few days. Determination brimmed from his eyes, and Elizabeth felt a shudder run down her spine. 

  
Something in her snapped even as she felt a rush of sympathy at what he must be feeling. 

She drew in a deep breath and rounded on him, her hands firmly on her hips as she leaned slightly towards him, fury on her face. "Cheating you of the chance? What on earth could you mean by that? You fathered that boy and then left him! He has spent a good portion of his life if nor searching for you than certainly thinking of you! The trials he's suffered–being _orphaned_ when his mother died" She emphasized the word noting the way he cringed to hear it. "Working his way as a cabin boy to search for you, pirates, curses, Aztec gold, living with the thought that he'd killed you by lifting the curse! What right have you to be concerned now?" She took a menacing step towards him, and he backed up glancing to Jack as though in supplication, but getting only a vague, unhelpful wave as the Captain's hand traced an unrecognizable symbol in the air.

"Learning you were a pirate who went by the ridiculous name of Bootstrap Bill shook his world upside down, but he took up that burden and learned to live with it! He was never intimidated by what he learned or by what he faced!" Elizabeth's tears had dried up, and her face, red with rage and wide eyed with indignation was now only inches from that of her would-be father-in-law. "Will Turner is more of a man that you can ever hope to be! He's lived nobly andand responsibly and you aren't worthy toto tie his Bootstraps!"

She spun on her heel and walked away leaving him gaping after her.

** 

Nick stared at the barman from the Painted Parrot. He hadn't been too seriously injured, but, with a knife to his throat, even this money hungry fool could play sick fairly well. Tied and gagged most of the time, the man wasn't likely to give him away. 

They were well on their way now, and Nick was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't have waited to find the real Will Turner before trying to do this. If they overpowered him and found out this wasn't Bootstrap's boy he'd never get what he wanted. 

How had he ever allowed Jack and Bootstrap to talk him into the pact to begin with? He cursed himself now, not even noticing when his prisoner flinched at the sound.

He'd always been one to make quick decisions. For good or bad, he did what came to mind. Sometimes it worked to his advantage. Like impersonating Boostrap. The man's reputation among pirates had guaranteed Nick would find ships willing to take him aboard. He'd made quite a bit of money until he'd begun to run into the real thing. At first, he'd been surprised, but then, he'd taken it as an opportunity. Bootstrap and Jack and Nick had once been close. Closer than brother's he'd thought, but Killian had put an end to that. When push came to shove, Jack had saved Bootstrap from that immortal monster, proving _their_ friendship, but later, he'd left Nick to die. 

It pretty much spelled out what your friends thought of you when they left you to die. When Bootstrap had finally tracked him down, Nick had been living a good life, though he'd bloodied Bootstrap's reputation. He'd gained an altered nickname and taunted Bootstrap with it. Bloody Bootstrap they called him, and that, if nothing else, was his own.

Everything else he called his, had come from Bootstrap. His belongings he'd taken from his former friend. He'd sold most, but the little gold ring seemed to be something Bill wanted back desperately. He'd kept it when he'd made that discovery, and, always, when Bill would come close to retaking it, Nick would make sure he knew he'd never truly get anything back from him. Not his reputation, not the few bits and pieces he'd stolen and sold, and not this ring. Pretty bauble it was, too. Why the man was so obsessed with it, he'd never guessed, but that he wanted it was enough reason for Nick to keep it from him.

Nick looked at the still terrified barman bound and gagged in the furthest corner of Jack's room. The man couldn't live long. That much was certain. He'd keep the masquerade going as long as he was able, but he would have to know when to cut his losses even if cutting losses in this case meant cutting a throator two. He grinned at the thought of Jack Sparrow and Bootsrap Bill slit from ear to ear–_after_ they watched him kill this young man they thought was Will Turner. His grin grew wider, and his harsh laughter as he stared at the bound barman only made the captive man cringe all the more.

**

  
Captain Jack Sparrow thought long and hard about their destination. He'd been surprised enough when Nick had appeared from nowhere with Will in tow. _Ahh, Will,_ he thought, _what have you got yourself into? _His heart had skipped a beat when he'd seen Will slumped and senseless in Nick's hands. Never mind that he'd thought Nick dead. Funny, that. He'd thought Nick and William dead and both were alive. 

Nick hadn't poked more than an arm out of his self-imposed prison since he'd locked himself in, and Jack knew it was unlikely that he'd made Will comfortable. 

How had he survived? Jack had gone over it in his mind since the moment William had said the man's name out in front of the Painted Parrot. He could still recall the first time he and Nick had been truly at odds.

Jack was trying to save William Turner from Killian's evil plans, and, having arrived back aboard ship with his still drugged friend, he'd found that Nick had already declared himself Captain, skewered the man holding that position, and engaged in battle any who opposed him.

Much of the rest of the crew did indeed oppose such a change in leadership. Jack had barely been able to wrestle William's limp form aboard before having to leap into the fray. 

  
Nick was a fairly decent swordsman, though when harried, his basic style was to hack at his opponent. What he lacked in flair he made up for in aggression. Jack might well ignore the rules in a duel, but Nick didn't know there _were_ rules. 

Drawing his sword, Will blocked a blade that was intent on taking Nick's head from his shoulders. The man who'd wielded that blade had stared at him wide-eyed. Jack was popular among the crew of the Black Pearl and it was likely the man had no desire to kill the younger pirate.

  
Jack took full advantage. Never one to allow an opportune moment to slip from his grasp, Jack called loudly for everyone to stop. To his astonishment, they had.

"What's all this?" He turned to Nick. "What's goin' on?"

Nick growled at his friend. "I was explainin' my new rank to the boys!" 

A feral light shone in Nick's eyes, and Jack had to fight not to take a step backwards. Before he could say a word, the man whose blade still crossed his own in a frozen tableau of battle gestured towards Nick. "'E says 'e be the captain, now."

Jack glared at his friend. "You what?"

Nick smiled, but there was more malice than mirth in the gesture. "Aye! What of it! Someone's got to take charge! Ye've saved Bootstrap, and the other ships will likely wait for Killian before chasin' after us! We can take this ship!"

Jack glanced nervously at the crew. He had to appease them somehow. William wasn't well. As if to reinforce his silent assessment, William groaned. For better or worse, Jack spoke, and he spoke quickly as a man who hoped his words might save his life. "You all know me!" He yelled to those assembled. "I've defied the Commodore's orders and saved a man he meant to kill." The men began to mumble about that eyeing the unconscious William. Bootstrap Bill was probably the only one more popular than Jack among the crew. "I need the Black Pearl to get as far from Killian as possible. You men are good pirates, but your ranks are low, your cuts small. Sail with us. Help us take the Pearl far from 'ere as we can get with a good wind, and I promise ye'll 'ave more riches in one month than ye'd likely take in a year with Killian!"

Jack had had no idea how he'd keep such a promise, but that was tomorrow's problem. Today's still involved Killian, William, and escape.

The men spoke quietly to themselves until one man stepped forward. Internally, Jack groaned. The second mate, Hodges by name, was not one to follow reason as Jack saw fit to define it. The two had never had a bad word to say against each other, but Hodges often made it clear that he disapproved of Jack's thinking.

"I'll follow _you_, Jack. I _won't_ follow _'im_." He gestured to Nick, who took a step forward. 

Jack's hand shot out and gripped Nick tightly by the arm. He looked to Nick and whispered. "For William."

He could see the other man's reluctance. In truth, he wouldn't have asked for the captaincy like this. Sure, it had always been his intention that one day he'd take the Pearl. He loved her. It was as simple, as complicated, as that. He'd thought to follow another for awhile longer at least, and he'd assumed it would be William Turner who'd take the ship, but William was in no shape. 

He looked for something in Nick's eyes, and, seeing a flicker took it as acceptance. Giving his friend a nod, he turned to Hodges. "If that's what it takes, that's what it takes." 

  
Hodges nodded, cast a fleeting glare at Nick and turned to the others, though his words addressed his new captain. "We await your orders, Captain Jack Sparrow."

Jack sighed in relief. "Weigh anchor, then mates! Hoist the sails!" He turned his full attention on William who'd begun to moan. Nick only grudgingly helped him take the insensate William to the captain's quarters. Once they'd gotten William settled, Jack set about gathering things he'd need to tend the older man. 

Nick caught his arm and spun him around. "_Captain_ Sparrow?"

Jack smiled at first thinking his good friend meant to tease about the oddity of Jack breaching such a rank. The gleam in Nick's eye chased the smile from Jack's lips. "If it gets William away from 'ere" He stopped and stared at Nick for a moment. "Nick, this was all for William's sake, wasn't it?"

The look in Nick's eye as he struggled with too many emotions wasn't easy for Jack to decipher. Still focused on his ill friend, he hadn't thought he'd need to battle his well one.

"'Course it's all for Bootstrap." Nick looked hastily away, but Jack saw something then that would haunt him later. 

Jack sighed now thinking of Nick ensconced within those same walls with Bootstrap's son–a lad he'd injured just to have his way. "I'm sorry, Will." He sighed heavily and looked up checking the position of the sun, but using the gesture as an entreaty to heaven as well. "I won't let 'im 'arm you, Will, and I swear, I'll make it up to you." It was the closest to prayer he'd been since he'd impersonated a minister.

  
**

William stared at the door to Jack's quarters. His son was through that door. It was the only thought he could allow himself. So close, yet so far. He'd taken Elizabeth's words to heart, and he understood her anger. Jack had told him of all the lass had been through with his son. Both of them insisted Will was a fine lad, and, though the thought made his heart swell with pride, he knew–had known before Elizabeth's tirade–that he could take no credit for it. It was his wife who'd done this. She had made him the man he was. Learning that she'd died so young and left Will to fend for himself as little more than a child hurt William, but not so much as not knowing what he'd been through.

Oh, he could imagine it all too well. Orphaned in London with no kin willing to take him in, Will had likely spent some time in an orphanage. William shuddered at the thought, and wondered how he had escaped such a life. He'd apparently taken to the sea in hopes of finding his father. Of course, the life of a cabin boy wasn't an easy one, and Barbossa attackinghe hadn't thought the gold might call to those who'd stolen it. He cursed himself for putting his son at risk. He'd done precious little for his boy in his lifetime, but the thought that his carelessness had nearly cost Will his lifeit made him want to throw himself against the rail and make an offering to Poseidon in a most unpiratical way.

Nick had tormented him for years now. William had spent several years combing the Caribbean for any sign or hint of Captain Jack Sparrow. He'd found nothing but rumor. Knowing how such things could spread well beyond reason, William had forsaken most of what he'd heard. Then one day on Tortuga he'd heard tell that Bootstrap Bill Turner had put in to port nigh on a week ago. He laughed to hear it. He'd only been on Tortuga for a few hours at most. Following up on what he heard, he soon realized he wasn't the man everyone called Bootstrap. He'd followed a shadowy, cloaked figure for days before finally cornering him in an alley between a pub and a house of ill repute. 

The man who faced him had a familiar bearing, and William only hesitantly drew his weapon. "Tell me who ye be and why ye be takin' the name of Bootstrap Bill when it's clearly not yer own!"

The shadowy figure had begun to shake, and, at first, William thought the man was either having a seizure or terrified out of all proportion. He took a tentative step forward, but realized the man was laughing. In one swift movement, his opponent drew his sword and threw off the cloak that had concealed his face.

William felt his eyes widen in shock. "Nick." He said the name in a whisper as a man might voice an entreaty to his God. Shock and surprise were plain, but turned to consternation as Nick continued to laugh.

"Why, Nick? Why do ye pretend ye're me?" William brought his sword up prepared in case his old friend shook off the hilarity that had taken him and found his old rage.

The laughing stopped and Nick took a step toward William, sword raised and a glint in his eyes. "Why? Are ye so daft as to ask me such a thing?" Another step to the right and the two began to circle each other. "First off, I thought ye dead, but I like it better that ye're not. Bootstrap Bill Turner!" 

Nick yelled the name and William wasn't certain if he applied it to himself or to William.

Nick slashed out at William with his weapon, but it was a half-hearted move as though he wasn't sure how he wanted to play this moment. "Sparrow's dead now. Victim of mutiny. Victim of yer brand o' _friendship_." As he said the word, he slashed out viciously with his sword, causing William to duck and step aside.

Standing again, William took the offensive attacking Nick as he would any man who impugned his honor or that of his closest friend. They fought for some time, all the while William pleaded with Nick to explain himself.

Finally, Nick, fury possessing him, deflected William's blow so fiercely that Turner's sword went flying. Nick threw himself at William and held his sword at the other man's throat. "I took on yer identity to gain what I could, for none had ever 'eard of Nick Fowler. That yer not dead" An evil gleam came to his eye and William was certain he was about to die. "That makes it more_interesting_." He laughed a hollow laugh and in moments, had tied William's hands behind him and taken everything of value he had in his possession. 

It was in recognizing one of the items that Nick's cackling was cut short. He waved the object at William. "Is this it? Is this the book we left with Ol' Joe?" He thrust the slim volume at his former friend, though he needn't have asked the question. 

William nodded, not certain his voice had not abandoned him since his mouth felt so dry. "Aye." He finally croaked out the word. "That's it."

Nick gazed at the book and ripped it open and paged through it. William knew he wasn't the best reader, but he knew enough to follow the important parts. "Ye'll not 'ave it! That was fer us to _share_! You an' me an' Jack!"

"It's mine now! Fit compensation fer what you an' 'e did! It's less than what ye owe me, but I'll take it since it's more than I woulda thought I'd get! Besides, Jack's dead."

"'E might not be! I've been searchin'"

  
Nick shook his head impatiently. "Yer search was in vain, mate! Jack Sparrow is long dead!" 

  
"That's what I thought about you! That's what you thought about me! We can _find_ 'im!" William insisted hoping to appeal to the friendship he thought they'd all shared. He prepared himself for Nick's temper, but was surprised when the anger faded to be replaced by a look of cold calculation. It was a look he'd never have thought to see on Nick's face and, indeed, it looked foreign there upon the familiar features.

"I'm not dead, Bootstrap, and neither are you, but I'm about to make you wish you were."

William sighed at the memory of how long he'd sat bound in that alley. When he'd finally managed to free himself from the ropes, he'd taken to following Nick. He'd wondered why Nick hadn't gone straight to the book and done what he had to do to find what the three friends had saved, but eventually he learned that Nick wasn't attached to a ship. 

Nick was a man who easily grew bored, and he often left a ship when he tired of one and finding another heading where he wanted to go. 

He'd overheard Nick explaining to one of his strumpets that he was saving his money to buy a crew off so he could take over a ship and sail to find his glory. Nick was always using phrases like that. He thought they made him sound important, refined, and well on his way to earning the power he craved. 

Rarely, however, did Nick stay onboard ship long enough to raise the money such bribery would cost. William had tried on several occasions to take what was his, but he'd always ended up beaten and alone as Nick sailed away.

Now the man had more leverage than any pirate needed. Will knew Nick wasn't above hurting Will. He also knew that there was no chance he'd allow Will to be hurt anymore. A plan is what they needed, and the best place to start for one of those was with Captain Jack Sparrow.

**

AnaMaria watched her captain as he steered his ship thinking how different he looked when the horizon wasn't what was on his mind. She hadn't been happy at all to find they'd been put at risk once more for Jack Sparrow's friends, but she had to admit she liked this Jack. This Jack had allowed himself to care about Will Turner. That care had extended itself to Elizabeth, and, before you knew it, the crew of the Black Pearl had elected to disregard the code and come sailing into Port Royal in hopes of rescuing Jack Sparrow from the gallows.

  
She shook her head at the memory. The crew had debated long and hard after they'd left that forsaken rock where Jack had fought Barbossa. She wasn't pleased with herself that she had left him, but she'd been angry with him and more than a little scared of the undead. 

Looking at Jack now, she could tell his thoughts were on Will on finding a way to wriggle out of one more sticky situation. In a way, Nick, as long as he held Will, could command the Pearl well beyond this one voyage. AnaMaria didn't relish the idea of taking orders from a man so cowardly he hid himself behind an injured man to get what he wanted. That was no kind of man at all to her way of thinking.

So engrossed was she in her observations she didn't hear Gibbs approach until he spoke to her. "Cap'n's not sayin' where we be goin'."

She replied without turning her attention from Jack's pensive face. "Aye. He's more tight-lipped den usual about dis one." 

Without another word, she walked to the captain's side and stood there waiting for him to comment on her presence. It took longer than it usually did for him to notice her, but when he did, a sly half smile appeared on his face. "What is it you need, AnaMaria?"

"I need a Captain who'll stand up to the likes of him what's commandeered this ship." She didn't expect the pained look in his eyes, and she almost regretted her words, but she stood defiantly, chin jutting forward and arms crossed.

"Aye, but it's not as simple as all that." He glanced back towards the doors that hid his good friend from view. "It's actually quite complicated." He whispered and she couldn't say if he was aware he'd spoken aloud.

He turned back to her, smiling and bobbing slightly to the rhythm of the sea. "There won't be much profit in it for the crew, but I'll see none of you come to harm, and I'll make it up to you."

She shook her head at his ignorance. "Jack, don't you seeit's not the profit I'm concerned about."

He frowned.

Sighing as one well put out, she slipped her arms around his neck, drew his head down to hers, and kissed him. Sweet, tender, the gentlest kiss she'd ever given to any man, she knew he finally understood just from the way he kissed back.

Stepping back she looked him in the eye and saw the dawning of realization in the bright smile he gave her–a smile of pure joy rather than of manipulation, relief or half a hundred other emotions he usually allowed himself to show.

She could tell he was searching for something to say and he finally did find it. "First Elizabeth and now you. Must be somethin' in the air."

She laughed. "Aye, it's in the _air_, Jack Sparrow."

__

"Captain" He started to correct her, but she cut him off by filling his mouth with something other than words.

**

William saw Jack and AnaMaria and hung back giving them a moment. He glanced around the ship and his eyes were caught by the sight of the sea. This was what had lured him away from home all those years ago. A lifetime agoWill's lifetime

"It's a beautiful sight."

The words surprised him almost as much as the unexpected presence of the person who'd spoken them. "Aye. It's one I've never been able to see often enough."

"Is that why you left himI mean, is that why you left England?" Elizabeth looked him in the eye and he could tell she was searching for a way to understand him.

"It is. I suppose I loved the sea too much to leave it behind"

"But you didn't love Will or his mother that much?" She didn't hide the bitterness in her voice.

"Will was better off without the likes o' me hangin' about." He looked again at the doors that shielded his son from the eyes of those who loved him.

"I don't think he'd agree with you."

"No, I don't s'pose 'e would." He whirled around to face her. "I won't make excuses for what I did"

"Good, because abandonment is inexcusable!"

"'Ear me out!" William snapped, unhappy with the way the young woman seemed intent on hating him. "I love my son. I always 'ave. I make no excuses for what I've done or the type of man I am. I searched for 'im, but I didn't know 'e'd come to the Caribbean. I was lookin' in London after I freed myself from the cannon"

"Yes, how did you manage that?"

William smiled. "I h'ad all the time in the world, didn't I? Barbossa had tied the cannon to me by my boots. He fancied himself a Gentleman's Pirate, and enjoyed the idea of Bootstrap meetin' h'is death tied by his bootstraps to a cannon. I'm a patient man. I've 'ad to be. So I worked the knots until I'd loosened the rope enough to get at me boots"

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Where you'd hidden a knife and you cut your bonds and swam to the surface!"

William laughed. "No. Barbossa woulda noticed any weapons I mighta tried to keep. Truth is I slipped off my boots."

"You did?"

"Sure, but don't be tellin' that tale, if ye don't mind."  
  
"Why ever not?"

"I'm already known as Bootstrap Bill. Nick's changed it a bit by his own words and deeds and now 'e's.it's _Bloody_ Bootstrap Bill. I'd 'ate for it to be _Barefoot _Bloody Bootstrap Bill."

She blinked at him once or twice before the two shared a small laugh. Elizabeth looked up at him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't judge you. It's just that Will" She sighed.

He didn't speak. If she was going to start to trust him, he didn't want to give her cause to change her mind. His patience was rewarded when Elizabeth, having found the words she needed finally spoke.

"He's not been himself. He's had nightmares since that business with Barbossa. Mostlyof you." She glanced sidelong at him.

"Of me? Nightmares? What sort? I'd never 'arm the lad!" 

"Nothing like that! He's dreamed that hewhen he ended the curse he assumed you were still at the bottom of the ocean tied to that cannon. He assumed since he'd drawn the blood and tossed that gold back into the chest that you.that he"

Now, he did finish her sentence for her. "He thought 'e'd killed me." He shook his head. He was learning a lot about the type of man his son was, and it was maddening that he had yet to look upon the lad with his own eyes.

"Yes, and then with the business with Killian"

"Elizabeth, I won't abandon him. Once we get this sorted with Nick, I'll be there for 'im if 'e'll 'ave me." He looked at her in earnest hoping for the slightest hint of approval.

  
She, however, was distracted by his words. "Yes, and what's the story with Nick? Why does he hate you and Jack." 

"That's a long story, lass"

**

The rising sun was hidden behind storm clouds as Will Turner stared out at the horizon. The water was choppy and reflected the gray of the sky, and no ships or boats dared brave such wind tossed waves. He'd found this part of his daily ritual difficult to explain even to himself, but each day, wind, rain, or sunshine, he would walk out to the docks, looking, he knew, for the familiar curve of a full sail and a familiar bow.

He couldn't afford to book passage off the island that had become his home these past few weeks, and pride would not allow him to beg or steal. He'd briefly considered turning Pirate as Jack so often half-jokingly encouraged, but he knew it was a lifestyle he could not embrace wholeheartedly. While he enjoyed the freedom, the rewards and even the hard work of a life on the sea, the dishonesty and casual attitude towards life and death was not something he would choose. He could barely reconcile himself to the fact that his father, a man he didn't know, and who he now had come to accept he would never know, had chosen to lead such a life. He knew it was likely there were reasons for such a decision, but he also knew it may have been decided on a whim or as a lark. The truth was he was certain of very little in his life, and he had sworn to himself not to assume anything anymore.

He'd assumed too much in his life and it had led him nowhere. He'd assumed Pirates were bad men, and then he had met Jack Sparrow. While certainly no saint, he was hardly as immoral and unethical a man as Will would have assumed a pirate to be. He was still ashamed of what he had done, striking Jack with that oar and leaving him behind in that cavern. He'd assumed the worst about Jack, and had acted on impulse, but that thought didn't make him feel better. Jack had never mentioned it, and he wondered if Jack ever thought of it.

Sometimes a discussion with Jack would set Will's head to spinning. Jack would casually throw an arm over Will's shoulders and show him a path seemingly paved in logic that twisted and turned around itself in such a way that all Will was often following the path long before he fully understood where it led.

Thoughts of Jack inevitably led him to thoughts of Elizabeth. He found he thought of her so much it was either as if she were with him, or as if she had only ever been imaginary, elusive, and ethereal. He ended each evening with thoughts of her. He started each morning with thoughts of her, and in between, he spent his time lost in dreams of her.

He had finally decided he had to put such thoughts and dreams behind him. They got him nowhere and the incessant ache caused by her absence and the fact that he had no clue where she was or if she were well had become unbearable.

If, as Jack insisted, there were only two rules: what a man can do and what a man can't, Will was certain of only one thing. When Elizabeth had sailed away from this wretched little island without him, she had taken his heart. He could not love another. He also could not hang his hopes on finding her again. He was beaten. Fate or the Good Lord had seen fit to separate him from his one true love–by social standing, by crazed pirates, by the disapproval of polite society, by more crazed pirates and slavers, by illness, and now by something he could not fathom. He had told Jack that he was no simpleton. It was true enough. He had learned what the world seemed to want him to learn. He would always love Elizabeth, but he could not pursue her. He did not even know where she had gone. 

He puzzled over that for a moment or two before berating himself. Trying to work out where Elizabeth, Jack, and the Pearl had gone proved he'd not quite accepted the idea that he couldn't pursue her. 

He cursed himself for a fool. The idea that the woman he loved, had loved all his life, and the one man he could call friend had left him behind because he had fallen behind continued to flit through his mind. Had they been following the code? Why would they do such a thing? Why would Elizabeth? Surely, _she_ would have

  
He broke off the though clenching his fists so tight they trembled.

Stranded with no money and little chance of finding his way back to a home that might not even exist anymore, Will had found himself certain of little. Watching the Black Pearl sail away leaving him behind had not been easy. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it. He'd stood there in shock, disbelief, allowing panic to settle over him as he thought of what might have forced them to do such a thing. What might have happened to Elizabeth? To Jack? Were either of them alive, or had the ship been commandeered and the crew forced to leave without them as well?

  
That thought had filled him with hope and he had spent two days searching the small town for some sign of them. He'd searched until the wee small hours of the morning and had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep curled up in a sparse clump of trees out behind the Painted Parrot. It had been an uneasy sleep fraught with nightmares and he'd awakened in confusion at his unfamiliar surroundings until he'd remembered.

The heartache had hit him again, and he was determined to search until he found out where Elizabeth and Jack were or, if they weren't here, why they had gone.

It was midday before he found he could not go on. He hadn't eaten. He hadn't had anything to drink. He had little chance of surviving for long without finding some way to support himself, and, as luck would have it, there was one skill he could offer. 

Knowing of no other way to earn a living that he would find acceptable, he made his way to the smithy. Unsure how much he should trust the large blacksmith, Will offered only to assist him. 

The man eyed him skeptically. "Ye 'andled yerself well yesterday morning, lad, but 'ow do I know yer capable of work I'd be willin' ta pay fer?"

Will stared at the man, refusing to be intimidated. "If you don't like the work, you can let me go. If you do, you pay me for my labor. I'm an accomplished smith myself."

The man sighed heavily acting for all the world like he was doing Will a great favor by even considering such an arrangement, but Will could see in his eyes how much he wanted someone to do the worst tasks freeing him to do other things. Perhaps more profitable, perhaps more illegal, such things were best accomplished under the cover of legitimate business. Will knew he was taking a chance, for the man might agree now and simply not pay him later. He was not about to be a victim, however, and he knew he could find a way to deal with such a thing if he had to.

The weeks had been largely uneventful. He had not allowed himself to fall into despondency, though he could feel it tickling the edge of his awareness. It was most difficult to fight it at night as he lay upon the makeshift pallet that he'd been allowed to set up at the smithy. He could ill afford to waste money on a room, and, though he had considered sleeping outside, the idea was unappealing when he also considered the number of dishonest men roaming around this island. Since he had to keep whatever he owned with him at all times, he would be too easy a target for thieves sleeping rough.

His evenings were long and solitary giving his mind little to do but wander among his memories and ponder what might be happening to Elizabeth and Jack. He had placed his pallet strategically on a spot on the floor where he could gaze out the window and see the stars if sleep would not come. It also permitted the first light of dawn to wake him. Will was learning to sleep lightly and to time his sleep so that he was first to wake. He did not like being defenseless, and had decided when the Pearl had departed leaving him with nothing but the clothes upon his back that he would not be caught unawares again.

As he watched the gray sky and choppy waters, his mind drifted to last night's ordeal. He had known it would happen. Sleep had been long in coming, and, in gazing through his window, the full moon had shone brightly casting it's reflected light upon his face. The moon recalled many things to him, but most vivid were the horrors it had shown him when its light had touched Barbossa's crew. 

It had been unnerving to say the least when he realized there was no bargaining with a crew who had nothing to lose. That's why it had surprised him so much when Jack had bargained. Barbossa had fallen for every word Sparrow had said, and Will had played along not knowing the details of Jack's planned deception, but somehow trusting him.

Last night, however, the sight of the moon, the scent of the sea on the air, his own fatigue and exhaustion, and the inescapable fact that once again, for whatever reason, he had been abandoned, had combined to give him a sort of waking nightmare.

He'd been haunted again by the image of his father dying pinned beneath a cannon at the bottom of the ocean. His mind's eye was crueler than his unconscious dreams, however, and he found the image would not dissipate. The image did not waver. It did not move on or shift, or change or leave him. He stared into the cold, lifeless eyes of his father, eyes that looked remarkably like the ones that stared back at him from the mirror each morningwell, when he'd _had_ a mirror.

When Jack had told him his father might be alive, Will had not reacted right away, and now, knowing he was probably dead, perhaps at the hands of the very man who had usurped his name and reputation, he found the dreams had grown more insistent. They held him, haunted him, and horrified him each night, and now, they had found a way to come upon him even when sleep eluded him.

The underwater scene was eventually overtaken by the image of the Pearl sinking. Why his tired mind would conjure such a thing, he could not say, but conjure it did. He imagined Jack aboard as it sank slowly beneath the blue waters of the Caribbean, and, as if that thought did not terrify him enough, he soon saw Elizabeth.

He imagined her fighting for breath, desperate to stay above water, recalling when he himself had done the same aboard the sinking Interceptor. Yet, in the end, the sea seemed to abide by the rule those who sailed upon her surface so oft quoted: take what you can, give nothin' back.

The sea, Will had heard from several pirates, was a harsh mistress, and, when angered, was more dangerous than any might understand if they saw only calm blue waters, white sands, and palm trees. With a sky as gray as the storm ravaged one before him, the ocean turned from benevolent goddess to shrieking shrew. Ships were easily overwhelmed in such weather, and, though Will's own sailing experience was limited, he had a healthy respect for the power of a storm. His old ship, the one Barbossa and the Pearl had sunk when he'd been thirteen, had been through two such terrifying nights. A seemingly endless storm had tossed them about like a paper cup. Congratulating themselves on their luck had been premature for only a week later Barbossa had found them.

He hadn't laid eyes on Barbossa all those years ago, but he had heard the man's voice. Cowering in a dark corner, he'd heard the Captain bellowing in rage when he could not find some treasure he wanted. He had not understood that it was his own medallion. If he had turned it over, he wondered, would the people aboard that ship have survived?

He sighed heavily and watched the skies darken rather than lighten. Today would be a rough day indeed. Many businesses were already placing heavy wooden slats over doors and many people had opted to leave the port city and find refuge on higher ground. Will could have done so, but caught in the nightmare images of his waking dreams and the heavy weight in his heart, he found he did not care if he survived this day.

To Be Continued

Jackfan2: Did you like your Jack/Ana moment? There will probably be more. I'm glad you like the longer chapters! This one's fairly long as well. I'm not sure how long the story will be, but it's likely to be several more chapters at least. There's a lot I have to do!

Catherinexxix: Thanks! (Blushes) You're so flattering! I'm glad you like the way I wrote Elizabeth. I was afraid I wasn't doing her justice. I watched the movie again the other day so I could get a better feel for her for this chapter, too. There is something developing between the Captain and AnaMaria. I don't know how much will develop, but as I said, I've got lots of chapters to explore it! Will is likely to have abandonment issues! More on that coming up!

Ping*pong5: Nick is pretty crafty and there's so much more to the history between the trio. You got some of that in this chapter, but there's more to come.

Lord Lanceahlot: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it. I was afraid there was too much going on. I tend to write shorter chapters but these last few have been much longer. Don't worry, though this chapter was a little serious, our poor friends will start to fight back soon!


	17. part 17

Thanks to all who have reviewed and sincerest apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. I struggled through the longest bout of writer's block I've ever suffered, and as soon as that was finally over, my computer headaches started. For quite sometime, I had a most unreliable internet connection, and my computer then chose to implode erasing more than half my data. I lost a good bit of this story thanks to a faulty backup disk, and it took some time to piece it together.

With a bit of luck, all of that is behind me. I do hope you enjoy this chapter.

Reviews are appreciated. Forgive me for not responding to reviews this time out, but I will get to them next time.

Enjoy!

A Pirate's Life and Death part 17

By Ecri

Rain pelted the deck of _The Queen of Diamonds_, but her crew could not distinguish even sheets of such drops from the bombardment of the sea itself. Reflecting the clouded and ever-darkening sky, the Cimmerian sea swelled and dropped, rose and fell in great undulations tossing the small ship from crest to crest as a child tossed a ball from hand to hand. To a man, her crew knew that reaching shore now, before the brunt of the storm struck, was all that could save them.

The crew worked ceaselessly tying down what had worked loose, holding on to crewmates in danger of being thrown from the relative safety of the ship, and, in the captain's case, using all the brute strength a man possessed to fight the whim of Mother Nature. It took more effort than the man would have believed he possessed just to keep the once sturdy but now fragile seeming ship heading towards the relative safety of shore.

One man clung desperately to a rope that he'd been trying to secure just as the deck fell away from his feet. The thin line of rope became all that kept him from flying away from the ship and plummeting to the depths, and though fear gripped his heart, he never uttered a sound as that would only force him to swallow great mouthfuls of water.

He could not see for the driving rain and crashing waves only forced him to peer out at the world through half-closed eyes when he dared to look at all. He could not hear anything save the sound of the ship's bottom repeatedly hitting the water as it fell from some height as the sea itself dropped from beneath it along. Even the sound of men calling to each other as they fought a losing battle against nature's own fury, no matter how fiercely shouted, could not penetrate the roar of the sea itself.

The man dangled from the end of his rope like a fish at the end of a fishing line. He had heard one of his shipmates shout that land was nearby, but he had his doubts as to whether the _Queen_ would make this berth. He wished, not for the first time, that the captain had anchored, but he understood the captain's reasoning. The _Queen_ had good reason to try to reach the island rather than wait out the storm.

Will Turner continued to stare at the darkening horizon until an unexpected sight caught his attention. Will almost allowed himself to hope that he saw _The Black Pearl_ returning, but recognition killed hope as he realized the ship approaching was too small to be Jack's.

He watched as the ship, hidden from his sight before now by weather and distance, struggled against the wind and rain making as much progress to starboard as it did towards the dock. He saw one man clinging to a rope as it flapped from side to side first swinging out over the water and then swinging back over the wildly pitching deck.

He took a step closer, knowing he would not be able to help, but unable to keep himself back. The fight for life he witnessed snapped him from his melancholy as quickly as a lit candle pushed back darkness. He saw other figures on the deck struggling with tasks he could not name from this distance, and he moved unconsciously towards the dock. The ship would make berth, or sink, or crash into another ship, or run aground on the beach depending on the whim of the weather and the skill of the men aboard.

He couldn't do much to help them until one of these things happened, but he would be there if anyone lived. Breaking into a run, he soon found himself alongside others of the town and of other docked ships all turning out to offer help.

There weren't many charitable souls to be sure. Most residents of the island had either sought high ground or boarded up their homes or businesses intending to wait out the storm. Will saw the man who'd hired him and several sailors from two of the most recently docked pirate ships. His attention was soon drawn back to the sea as the small approaching ship struggled towards port.

He supposed they were lucky the brunt of the storm had not yet hit otherwise it would have been impossible to stand up to the winds.

Will barely dared to breathe as the ship approached. Mesmerized by the horrifying dance of destruction as the waves pounded the ship, Will watched that one lone figure still clinging to the rope waving through the water saturated air. The ship was close enough now that some of the sailors were actually throwing themselves into the sea hoping they could swim to shore and escape the almost certain destruction of their ship.

Searching frantically for a way to help, his eyes finally alighted upon a strong, though thoroughly drenched coil of rope. Seizing his hands upon it at the same moment that his mind seized upon the mad notion that spurred him forward, Will tied one end of the rope to a nearby rowboat and searched desperately for something strong enough to anchor him to shore in the storm.

In moments, he'd secured the loose end to a beached, rusted anchor. He'd have preferred something stronger, but it was the best he could do. Almost as an afterthought, he spared a moment to find a second rope and tied it to the first rope just above the knot that secured the first rope to the boat. Then he took the loose end and tied it as tightly as he could bear it around his waist. Now, even should the increasingly fragile looking boat be splintered by the waves, he himself would still have a lifeline leading back to shore.

As ready as he could be, Will Turner climbed into the rowboat and began to paddle towards the troubled ship.

Clinging desperately to the wind-whipped rope, the sailor had lost his ability to see, to hear, to taste. He was aware of nothing except his determination to hold onto his last lifeline. His hands were numb from their white-knuckled grip, and his throat was raw from the screaming he'd done earlier. Surprise had melted into fear at finding himself in midair and the screams had been torn from his throat. Inadvertently swallowing rain and waves, he'd sputtered and coughed until he was sure he'd never be able to speak again.

Through it all, his only thought was to hold on. He repeated it in his mind again and again until the words lost all meaning and he was no longer sure what he was meant to be holding on to. Was it physical? He couldn't feel his hands. Was it emotional? His only emotion right now was fear. Was it mental? His only thought was _holdonholdonholdonholdon_

He would never remember letting go of that rope, and indeed, he never did, but the rope itself followed no code, held to no mantra, and clung with much less desperation to the _Queen of Diamonds_. When it snapped, the sailor had no way of knowing that he was now plummeting through the air with nothing to hold onto except the meaningless words that still repeated in his mind

Striking the water was a physical shock that jarred one thought from his mind. His mouth filled with water and the pirate choked on it, the taste of sand and silt churned through the sea by Mother Nature's rage raising bile to his throat.

He forced it down and shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his vision. Perhaps it was habit, perhaps fear, and perhaps a combination of these things, but as he tried to keep his head above water, the man's thoughts were once more overpowered by one repeated and now meaningless phrase.

Will's entire being was focused on not drowning and on reaching the ship. What help he could offer he knew would be limited, but even if he could pull but one man from the water, it would be worth the dangers he faced.

He couldn't have heard it. He could never have heard such a thing in such a deluge. Between the rain and the wind, he could not see, could not hear, and could barely breathe, but something drew his attention upward in time to see the man swinging from the end of a rope. As he watched, squinting into the driving rain in an effort to protect his eyes, Will's heart literally skipped a beat as the rope to which the man clung snapped. Time seemed to slow as the man arced through the air, but sped up again as the pirate plummeted through the surface of the storm churned water.

As thought abandoned him, instincts took firm hold, and Will found himself rowing for all he was worth towards the spot where the man had sunk beneath the dark water. His eyes surveyed the area for any hint, any sign that the man was alive and could be rescued. He reached the end of his tether, the rope pulling him up short. Dropping the oar onto the bottom of the boat, he leaned forward peering desperately across the water.

When the man broke the surface of the water sputtering and spitting, Will wasted no time. Reaching out a hand towards the wildly flailing limbs, he took hold of the pale, tensed hand. Will struggled to hold on as the man seemed unable to recognize for a moment that someone had found him.

A moment later, the man's other hand came up to join the first and clung to Will with the desperation of someone aware of his own imminent death. It took strength and luck to haul the man aboard the tiny boat without flooding it. When Will succeeded in that task, he took up the oar once more and headed toward shore. All the while, his eyes darted from wave to wave hunting for any others of the ship's crew who might have tumbled from her deck or rigging. He checked the condition of the man he'd rescued, frowning to see he'd lost consciousness. He could only pray the man lived.

The trip back seemed to take much longer and more than once, Will was certain the guide rope had snapped and, losing his sense of direction in the wind, rain, and waves, he was likely rowing away from shore.

The storm was intensifying and Will, finding it difficult to breathe in the growing winds and nearly impossible to see in the driving rain. It was because of this that, when he first noticed a glow on the horizon just ahead of him, it didn't make any impression. How long it glowed, bright and growing brighter, before it was joined by another much smaller light, then another and another, he couldn't have guessed. The sight of those lights, torches he guessed, gave him a goal and he began to row towards them. Be they the Sirens Gibbs had once told him of, their song drowned out by the cacophonous storm, Will had little choice but to take his chances.

As he rowed, he felt the boat's speed increasing beyond what he could achieve with his tired limbs fighting the raging storm. It took precious moments to work it out, but soon he realized the rope was being pulled from shore.

Smiling in jubilant relief, he increased his efforts with the oar, hoping only that the man he had tried to hard to save would live. He saw the shoreline then and could make out a small, dark shape that he took to be people huddled around a large fire built upon the beach. The smaller lights he'd seen were indeed torches, and another dark shape–more men–pulling on the end of the rope. He raised a hand to wave, unsure if he could be seen, when the boat rocked and pitched hard to starboard. Will lowered his hand and fought for balance. In the instant that he lost it, he had time enough only to grab a hold of the unconscious man in the bottom of his boat before a wave hit the small craft sending its occupants down into the sea.

Elizabeth stared at the door to Jack's quarters. She'd taken to lingering in the general area whenever her duties aboard ship permitted. Duties she had had to insist Jack give to her. Sitting around day after day trying to fill her time in ways other than worrying about Will's condition and the intentions of the madman who held him would have driven her mad in short order. She'd learned enough about sailing in her many voyages, and she was beginning to believe any memories she had of being anywhere except on the _Pearl_ were dreams or figments of her imagination.

The door to Jack's quarters rarely moved. She's been sitting here whenever she could hoping the proximity to Will might be a comfort to him even though he couldn't know she was there. She took what little comfort she could from knowing she was as close to him as she could be. She'd pleaded with Jack do somethingbut he'd stopped her words with his own.

"What would ye 'ave me do, lass? Break down the door? Will would be dead before the splintered wood hit the deck." He'd raised a hand to gesture to some of the crew who worked nearby. "Would you want us to run in there and overwhelm 'im? 'E'd shoot Will or slit 'is throat before we could take 'im." His harsh words had softened as he placed a hand on each of Elizabeth's shoulder's, looked her in the eye, and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. "I'll not let Will come to 'arm, Elizabeth. One way or another, that boy _will_ walk off this ship in Port Royal under 'is own power. I give you me word."

She'd believed him. Every word he uttered, and she wondered now what Commodore Norrington, or even her father would think of that. Taking the word of a Pirate as one would take the word of a gentleman–they'd be scandalized. They could barely bring themselves to admit that Will was a decent man.

She didn't know if this made her gullible or stupid in their eyes, but neither opinion could change her mind. Captain Jack Sparrow was a good manand a pirate. Will Turner was a good manand a blacksmithbut he was a pirate, too. Whether such a thing could truly be in someone's bloodwhether a man could be predisposed to a life of piracy because his father or his father's father had been one she couldn't say. She tended to believe that it didn't really work that way. Sure, Will's blood had been needed to end the Curse of the Aztec Gold, but that had had more to do with lineage and with the fact that he was standing in for his father.

No, she couldn't believe pirates only came from pirate blood anymore than she could believe that every man who was in the Navy had a father who had been. The sea was a fickle mistressshe'd heard that and similar axioms all her life. Not all were irrefutable, but Elizabeth knew that if the right man heard the sounds of the sea, tasted the salt spray and smelled the salt air, one moment was all it would take for him to be lost.   
  
She also knew something that few others knew. Women could be seduced by it as easily as men could. AnaMaria was proof of that. She herself was proof of that.

Whether Will had fallen under the spell of the clear, blue waters of the Caribbean, she didn't know. They hadn't talked of it in quite those terms, though they both spent a good bit of time staring out at those waters. It seemed a natural enough thing to do when you lived on an island. She'd never paused to consider what effect the waters would have on her pirate. She did see him that way. She supposed it was because of that first impression. Finding him half-drowned, unconscious, and floating amidst the burning wreckage of a ship that had turned out to have been attacked by pirates. Then there was the medallion.

Curious about the identity of the young boy who'd appeared out of nowhere, she'd picked up the long chain that hung around his neck and examined it, gasping in shock at what she'd discovered. _You're a pirate_, she'd whispered in shock, suddenly remembering Norrington's words about a short drop and a sudden stop. She'd been certain they'd hang him. Now, looking back with the wisdom of her years, she knew they wouldn't have hung a boy so young. Of course, the same wisdom told her his life would likely have been worse had others believed him a pirate. Public opinion was part of her world. It grabbed hold of a thing and made it more–or less–than it was. As the victim of a pirate attack, Will was given some modicum of sympathy from the residents of Port Royal. Including the Governor who allowed his young daughter to play with the boy who was so far beneath her station. As a young pirate, he'd likely have ended up living on the streets, breaking laws just to find food enough to live.

She sighed exasperated by the thoughts. Those wordswhen she'd thought him a pirate were echoed years later as she stood with him watching Jack Sparrow make his escape. Her father had called Will a Blacksmith, and she had smiled, removed the rakish hat from the head of the man she loved, and whispered the same thought she'd had all those years ago. _No. He's a pirate_.

She'd seen it in him, the ability to take a situation and react to it, to do what needed doing, even if he feared it, even if he wasn't sure he could do it. Even if it meant he might lose what was dearest to him. Yes, he could lie if the situation called for it, but the lies didn't sit well with him. She recalled the moment he'd said that Jack had fallen behind when they'd first reached the commandeered Interceptor after Barbossa's plan had failed. He had hesitated. She'd been too astonished at the idea that he'd turned to a pirate, the very one who had threatened her, to come to her aid. Will had always despised pirates, questioning her fascination with them. She had assumed it was because of the attack on the ship as he'd been on his way to Port Royal. There must have been a great deal about that attack her'd never told her, or perhaps that he himself didn't remember. That he would turn to a pirate willingly to save her had astonished her. She'd known there was a tale in it, but they'd never had the time to talk until after Will had helped Sparrow escape his own hanging.

The heartache she felt at being so near to him yet unable to be at his side swelled suddenly to an almost unbearable intensity. Unable to sit still any longer, she rose and walked away from the door. There was little to occupy her right now, so she walked briskly across the deck hoping to relieve her anxieties with the physical activity. She caught sight of Jack steering the ship with an almost casual air. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, but he and Bootstrap Bill were talking in hushed tones. She was sure they were working on the plan neither had seen fit to share with her.

She still wasn't quite sure where they were headed, but Bootstrap's explanation of Nick's hatred had at least filled her in on what sort of man was holding her Will.

She couldn't help but think, after hearing Bootstrap's story, that he and Jack Sparrow were truly horrendous judges of character. How could they have trusted a man like Nick? She'd asked Bootstrap that the night before, but he'd gotten a faraway look in his eyes, as though his thoughts played out before his eyes blocking from view the sight of the sea.

"Nick weren't always as 'e is now, lass. 'E was a good friend once. I mean, sure, 'e was a pirate, but, aside from that, Nick was always a good man." He smiled then, turning to look at her with a small smile on his face and a large twinkle in his eyes. "A good man and a good pirate'e was bothor at least Jack and me thought so."

With a sigh that turned the smile into a glower, Bootstrap told her about Nick. She could still hear his voice hesitant at times and racing as though he couldn't get the words out fast enough moments later.

"Nick resented Jack's takin' the _Pearl_ fer 'is own. 'E'd wanted it. Nick went along with it fer awhile, but it wasn't somethin' 'e could learn 'live with."

Elizabeth listed to the man's words slowly forming a picture in her mind of how things must have been. Injured and recovering from Killian's drugs in much the way Will had been, Bootstrap had pieced things together as well as he could from things he learned from others aboard the _Pearl_, and from his own observations of Nick and Jack together. Nick's unwillingness to accept Jack as his Captain had led to a betrayal aboard the _Pearl_. One that had taken place long before Barbossa had left Bootstrap Bill at the bottom of the sea, and Jack Sparrow marooned, albeit for just three days, on a slip of an island with a gun, one bullet and a cache of illegal rum.

"Nick expected Jack to turn over the ship to 'im, and in all likelihood, 'e'd a done it."

"But?" Elizabeth prompted when the narrative stopped.

Bill shrugged. "It was a lotta things got in the way. At first, Jack was too busy worryin' about Killian followin' and about me recoverin'." He looked at her a bit sheepishly. "I wasin a bad way."

"YesI know." Elizabeth admitted, memories of Will and what he'd suffered in the very room where he was now locked and kept at knifepoint with the barest of medicinalshe broke off the thought and waited for Bill to continue.

"Jack kept givin' orders that we were to make best speed as far from Killian as we could. In those first days, there wasn't a lotta piratin' goin' on. We were runninand we were runnin' scared."

The way he'd said that, the way the word _scared_ came as a half-whisper and a half-curse chased a chill up Elizabeth's spine. Running wasn't something any man was proud of, but running scaredElizabeth could see why. She remembered Jack's initial reluctance, his fear of going to Scratch. The island seemed to hold demons for him, and he'd faced those demons three times now. She supposed facing them that second time–with the realization that his memories from childhood hadn't been the exaggeration he'd convinced himself they must have been–that was what was still fresh in his mind, and that was what chased him as he left Killian behind. Killian catching up to them would have been bad enough, but the memories of shadow and demon and whatever else would fill the nightmares of a man like Sparrow, those things could have turned him from the Caribbean entirely. He might have sailed far from these white sanded shores and tried to put the tainted beauty of it all behind him. Instead, he'd cared for his friend, and, it seemed, fought for him.

"It was when we'd been runnin' for nigh on three weeks that the crew became restless. I've me own thoughts on just who'd planted the first seeds of doubt among 'em, but in the end, they demanded that Jack declare 'is intentions on 'ow they'd begin makin' the profit 'e'd promised 'em." Bill almost laughed then, but there had been so little laughter in his life recently that it came out more of a chuckle crossed with a clearing of the throat. "Jack always was one ta come up with a plan in an instant and pass it off as what 'e'd 'ad in mind for months!"

Elizabeth smiled.

"Good ol' Jack opened up 'is mouth and told the crew they'd been shortsighted if they'd fergotten that _The Black Pearl_ was the fastest ship in the Caribbean. By the way 'e said it, you could tell 'e believed it, and, though not a one of us 'ad ever 'eard it said afore 'e said it, not a one of us said different."

Elizabeth pondered Jack's plan at the time as Bill had explained it to her. He'd promised the crew they'd have profit and profit is what they had. He had them looking at the horizon all around for some sign of ships. Ostensibly, rich ships to plunder, but Jack also believed if he saw Killian or one of his ships approaching, he could outrun them if he had early enough warning.

The crew believed him when he told them he'd heard of a ship making its way to the Caribbean that was rumored to hold more riches than any other ship ever to leave Europe. When they spotted ship after ship and took what they could, if any of them ever declared that this one couldn't be the one they were looking for, Jack would simply smile and agree. Then he'd shrug and say that there was no use turning up their noses at the bounty the good Lord sent their way. Still they looked for the fictional ship of gold and riches, and its description grew more garish and more unlikely with each other ship they took.

Bootstrap admitted reluctantly that he'd suspected Nick's ambitions and greed had turned him against his friends, but he'd not denied his own uneasiness. Time after time, he convinced himself he hadn't seen any strange look in the man's eye, or that the challenging tone or bitter words had been imagined–the misconceptions of a mind still recovering from an ordeal that would surely haunt him for years to come.

"Jack didn't notice?" Elizabeth couldn't hide her surprise. If nothing else, Jack Sparrow seemed a shrewd man who took note of every opportunity, every shift in power. Certainly he'd have seen

Nick laughed. "Jack was distracted. I was ill, and 'e was the Captain of the _Pearl_. There was lots to do. Plans and plunderJack Sparrow was a busy man. If I'd a told 'im sooner"

"You blame yourself."

"What else can I do?" Nick sighed. "Jack risked his lifehis soulto save me, and I let Nick"

"You let him what?" Elizabeth had been certain that Bootstrap was about to break off the story and tell her nothing. Now, knowing the full story, she could almost wish he had.

Will's hands gripped tightly to the arms of the man he'd saved as they plunged beneath the surface of the Caribbean. Instincts told him to let go of the man, find the rope he'd tied to himself and use it to pull himself back to shore. Struggling under the deadweight, he shook his head as though to remind himself that that was not an option.

He knew the man would drown if he couldn't at least bring him up for air, so that's what he was trying to do, when the man began to struggle. Obviously having regained consciousness, the man had somehow realized he was underwater and struggled against the only grip he felt thinking Will meant him some harm.

His own feeble slaps at the man's hand had little impact, but it was enough. The man stopped struggling, and Will was able to make a move towards what he hoped was the surface. His head just broke through when he felt a sharp tug at his waist. Surprise and no small bit of pain didn't stop him from dragging his companion's head above water. When the man took a great gulp of air and rain, Will turned his attention towards the rope. He couldn't see the shore, but the way he was being pulled now, he realized meant that someone on shore had seen him. The rope was yanked hard and he and his companion–on whom he never lost his grip–were being pulled to safety.

It took several minutes and Will couldn't indulge in any sign of relief. It took all his strength to keep his and the other man's heads above water. Finally, he felt the soft sand beneath his feet and the touch of hands and press of bodies nearby as they reached for him dragging them both to safety. Will coughed up a bit of seawater, and brushed in vain at the hair and water in his eyes. He was gasping for breath trying both to thank his rescuers and to assess the condition of the man he'd saved.

Confusion settled on his tired brain as he finally got a good look at the other man. He lay on the sand sputtering and coughing up a great deal more seawater than Will had, and one hand pounded the sand as though doing so would dislodge the water and help him to breathe. The man's eyes widened as he turned to face Will, and recognition hit them both at the same time.

The man laughed, and even Will couldn't suppress a smile. "I never woulda guessed it were you draggin' me sorry behind from 'er clutches!" He jerked his head once toward the sea, and Will understood he referred to it as her'.

"I never woulda guessed it, Will Turner!"

Surprised that the man remembered his name, his smile grew. "I never would have guessed it was you I was saving, either, Mr. Trilby."

Captain Jack Sparrow watched the sun set over the horizon wishing the sight held the same promise, the same sense of freedom it once had. With Will's life being threatened and Nick back in his life, however, the pirate was beginning to wonder if the freedom he'd let himself feel had been a lie all along. Was there any such thing, or was this all some sort of test or curse orsomething?

Jack recalled the first time he'd realized things weren't as they seemed as far as Nick was concerned. It hadn't been long after he'd managed to rescue Bootstrap from Killian. They'd fallen into a routine of plundering every ship that came within sight of the _Pearl_, and had turned enough of a profit that the crew was beginning to seem well satisfied having Jack as their captain.

He'd taken no notice of Nick. It wasn't until it was too late that Jack had realized that his greatest enemy would turn out to be one of his dearest friends.

Nick had come to Jack's quarters one night after their most recent victory. The _Pearl_ had just taken the riches from a trading vessel that had been nearly stocked to overflowing with more riches than the crew would have seen in 5 years of working for Killian. There was much celebrating and drinking of rum that night, but Jack had called it a night rather early and was checking on William's condition.

His friend was nearly recovered, and Jack felt safe in thinking Bootstrap would join the ranks of the crew by early the following week. William had just slipped into a light sleep when Nick burst into the room without knocking.

"We need to talk!"

"Shh!" Jack glanced at William. "'E's just gotten to sleep. I'll not 'ave you wake 'im."

To his surprise, Nick laughed. "Too busy playing nursemaid to deal with me, are you?"

Jack crossed the room and stood in front of his friend. "What is it?

"I was meant to be captain, Jack!"

"We've been through this! I only agreed to be captain because it was hardly the _opportune moment_ to force them to accept you, Nick! Killian was too nearby, and William"

Nick cut off his friend's explanation. "Jackwe had plans"

Jack looked away for a moment. He was tired. Infinitely tired. Trying to keep the peace between Nick andwell, between Nick and everyone else aboard was wearing him out. Nick tended to rub people the wrong way, and the crew of the _Pearl_ had never quite trusted him since he'd been caught trying to take more than his share from a particularly profitable plunder. Killian hadn't been tolerant of such things, and Nick had been stripped of all the booty he'd hoarded over the past year, and flogged. It had been an overzealous flogging as far as Jack was concerned, and it had led to their friendship growing perhaps faster than it would have otherwise. Jack just hated it when those in power beat on those who were not. He'd risked his own neck by sneaking to Nick's quarters and leaving a bit of food and water for the other man. Of course, he'd hid his actions behind a façade of drunkeness and was never found out.

Nick had understood that it hadn't been a mistakethat the half-whispered excuses and apologies had been to hide the sneaky flourish with which Jack had concealed the water and food within the folds of the beaten man's clothes. Jack had caught the understanding and a flash of gratitude in his eyes, and had given the man the slightest of nods and a long look from his obviously sober eyes, before weaving and bobbing away with a swagger and a drunken slur of apologies over his clumsiness.

Jack knew Nick's plans had involved becoming Captain, but Jack wasn't about to risk William's life when he'd boarded the _Pearl_ to find Nick at odds with everyone aboard while he struggled to get an unconscious William aboard.

"Nick, you need to be a bit patient. Once William is well enough, the three of us will sit down and talk over our plans. We'll put it right, Nick. You'll get what you want."

Now, looking back, Jack realized the look in Nick's eyes had been more avaricious then he'd noticed at the time. If he'd noticed it then, would Nick be holed up in his quarters holding Willliam's son hostage?

It wasn't long after this confrontation with Nick when William was feeling better. It was then that Jack asked Nick to come to his quarters and the three friends began to make plans in earnest.

"Ye've done well enough, Jack, as far as ye've been willing ta go, but now that Bootstrap's better, we can get back to the business of piratin'."

"What business is it you be thinkin' I've ignored?" Jack thought they'd been doing well enough in keeping out of Killian's way and in keeping the crew happy with the amount of riches they'd taken.

A strange look came over Nick's face then, a combination of greed, bloodlust, andsomething else Jack never could quite place.

"We could be the most feared pirate ship in the Caribbean, Jack! We could be the stuff of legend!" Nick leaned across the table staring wide-eyed at his friend and captain. "We should strike while we can. We've not 'eard a word about Killian, so 'e must be off lickin' 'is wounds! Without 'im to stand in our way, everything is ours!"

Jack smiled at Nick's enthusiasm. "What would ye 'ave us do? We've taken every vessel we've come close to since we left Killian behind at Scratch." Jack suppressed a shiver at the mention of the pirate and the place he'd last been seen, and he didn't miss the shadow that crossed William's features just then. His attention was half on William and half on Nick when Nick began his arguments.

"Jack! We should be doin' more than takin' things! We should be makin' a name for ourselves! Makin' all who sail these waters live in fear of the very sight of us! The thought of running across the _Pearl_ should be a nightmare that keeps them from sleepin' until they've made port!" Nick's eyes flashed with anger just as Jack turned his full attention to the other man. Jack's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he shook it off. This was Nick. This was his friend.

"Nick, we're makin' a name for ourselves. We don't need to be the bloodiest boat to ever sail the seven seas in order to be good pirates. The crew is 'appy enough! We've kept 'em in riches, and we've kept ahead of Killian and the British Navy. We don't need to"

"Jack! Take what ye can, and give nothin' back! It doesn't mean take all that's within reach! It means take all that can be taken! That's what I want! I want it all!"

William laughed drawing the attention of both his friends. "Ye want it all? Well, if ye'ad it all, where would you put it?" He laughed again, long and hard until Jack joined in as well. He glanced at Nick expecting to see him smiling, but surprised to find him just glaring at William. Before he could say a word, William spoke first.

"We'll take what we can, Nick, and we'll be the best pirates we can be, but there's no 'arm in building to it slowly. We're lucky the crew has stayed with us, considering how it musta looked. You two draggin' my sorry self aboard half-dead and half-stupid from Killian's drugs" He shook his head in wonder. "I'm grateful to ye both for that." He shook off the sentimentality of the moment. "Nick, I know what you want, and we'll do it, I'm sure. It might take some time, but _The Black Pearl_ is destined to be a name known from here to England. We won't be givin' that up"

He'd never had a chance to finish the thought for it was in that instant that the call reached them. A ship had been spotted and they would need to make ready to meet her. Jack looked at William and the older man knew what his younger friend and Captain was thinking. "I'm well enough for it, Jack. Let's get to work!"

The battle was bloodier than most the _Pearl_ had managed since first sailing under Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack thought that Nick was taking more liberties with the way he did things. He seemed intent on killing everyone aboard ship regardless of whether they surrendered or not. The bloodshed on his part inspired some of the others of the crew to be a bit more frenzied than they'd been before now, and before Jack knew it, the entire crew of the other ship was dead or dying.

Anger flooded through him. Finding Nick holding his bloody sword up in a gesture of victory and laughing with some of the others who'd followed his example, Jack took the man's arm and spun him around to face him. "What is it you're doin', Nick?" Jack demanded, not taking any notice of the others and how they were reacting to this confrontation.

"I'm takin' what I can!" Nick declared, bringing his sword arm down from its upraised position. Jack watched a stream of blood pooling on the deck where it had dripped from the now down turned sword point. Jack's eyes took in the picture of his friend, bloodied sword, bloodied clothes, bloodied hands, and bloodlust in his eyes. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but before any thought could fully form in his mind, Nick's smiled slipped.

Horror filled his now-wide eyes as the pirate took in what the growing pools of red meant, and what it was that he had done. The sword, raised in victory moments earlier, fell from nerveless fingers and clattered to the red-stained wooden deck. "J-Jack?"

Nick's voice was small and full of emotion, and Jack stepped forward taking the man by the hand as he slipped his other arm around his friend's shoulders. Jack moved, taking Nick with him towards the _Pearl_ and shouted over his shoulders. "Take what valuables you find, leave the bodies and sink the boat." He paused. He had no desire to be here longer than necessary. "Do it within the next 15 minutes. _The Pearl_ moves on by thenand we're keepin' to the code."

That, he knew, would keep them from lingering too long.

Stepping back onto the cleaner deck of _The Black Pearl_ revived Jack chasing the stench of blood and gun powder from his nostrils and the sting of smoke from the back of his throat. He led Nick to his quarters and shut the door further dimming the stench, the sound, and the sight of the now listing ship they'd attacked.

Concern for his friend spoke before anger at his actions. "Nick, are you well?"

Nick blinked once, twice, three times, before focusing on Jack. "Jack" he looked around as though seeing the _Pearl_ for the first time. "What are we doin' 'ere? Did we take 'er? Is she ours?"

Jack nodded. "She's ours. Nick, are you well?"

Again Nick blinked, and just as suddenly as it had appeared, the vulnerable, shaky lad disappeared. "O'course I'm well! We've done it!"

"What is it you think we've done?"

Nick held out a piece of gold, a bit of jewelry it was, dulled by drying blood. Jewelry of some sort, but Jack barely glanced at it.

Anger surged through him at the memories. He should have realized that Nick was in trouble. What exactly the trouble was, he still didn't quite understand. Had too many years at sea been too much for him? Had Nick succumbed to some sort of madness because of whatever demons he carried within himself? Had he always been mad and Jack had only later realized it?

Whatever the truth was, Jack knew only that he'd long thought was dead. He had lived with that for a long time, and had even gotten past blaming himself for it. Nick's demise and their failure to go after what the three friends had left behind on that little island where Nick had apparently met his fate had haunted his dreams for years. Of course, that had been before Barbossa and the Curse. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he hadn't given Nick a thought in years. It wasn't until he'd decided to look up Ol' Joe and find what he, Nick, and William had left behind all those years ago that he'd once again begun to recall how close they all were.

His decision to go right where Nick was now insisting they go had come about because he knew there were things left there that Will would want. Maybe not immediately, but one day, he would want to have them. They were all William had at the time, and he had told Jack once that he looked on the island as a safe place to store things from his past that he could pass on to his sonto his future.

Will's futureJack could only hope at this point that the lad would have one.

Most of the crew of the Queen of Diamonds had miraculously survived, and of those who hadn't, many on the small island took to insinuating that their deaths had been their captain's fault.

"'E shoulda dropped anchor! Tryin' to outrun a storm like that is a fool's journey!"

Other's defended the man's actions. "'Ow was 'e to know 'ow fast it would come up? 'E mighta lost the entire ship an' 'er crew if 'e'd a tried that!"

The debate raged on over the next few days, but none of the crew of the ship in question bothered to weigh in. None defended their captain and none defamed him, either.

Will Turner found that curious behavior indeed, since most pirates that he had met weren't shy about voicing their opinions. Still, Will knew enough to leave it alone. He counted himself lucky to have survived that night, and was excited out of all proportion to have found that Trilby was the one he'd pulled from the water. He hadn't known the man well, but a familiar face seemed so far out of the realm of possibility that Will found himself pleased beyond measure to see him.

One night, just a few days after the storm, Trilby came by the blacksmith's shop to see Will. "I be 'eadin to the Painted Parrot, lad. I wondered if ye might want to get a drop or two with me."

Will smiled at the invitation. "I'd be happy to." He finished the last bit of work, tidying up the shop, and putting each tool away before closing up the shop. The two walked in companionable silence as they made their way to the pub.

Will breathed in the scent of the sea mingling with night blooming flowers he'd never learned to name. It would almost be calming except that it brought to mind Elizabeth. It was a scent she wore, or perhaps it was the flowers she wore. He couldn't say, but just smelling it brought her back to him. He closed his eyes as he walked, and could almost believe she was here walking with him, her arm genteely linked through his as though he were a proper gentleman. He had never been so long away from the sight of her since the day he'd come awake in the belly of the Naval ship that had plucked him from the burning sea. That was how he remembered it in his nightmares. The sea aflame and dark, torn sails coming closer in the fog.

He blinked his eyes open forcing the memorieseven those of his Elizabethaway once more. He realized he'd drifted to far from the present once more, and Trilby was chattering away unaware of his lapse.

When the other man paused for a breath, Will chose that moment, perhaps spurred on by memories of home, of Elizabeth and of Jack, to ask a question that he'd put off asking. "Trilby, the last I saw of you, you were on the _Pearl_. I know I wasn't in the best of health, but how did you turn up on the _Queen of Diamonds_?"

Trilby laughed. "I'd 'ave stayed with the _Pearl_ just for the honor of sailin' with Captain Jack Sparrow if the thought of that undead monster 'adn't a scared me past reason. I asked the Cap'n to put me ashore, and he did. I signed aboard the _Queen_, 'opin' to make a bit of money and to find meself a way back 'ome."

"Where's home?"

"I'd give anythin' to see England again, but I doubt as I ever will." He sighed. "O'course, the _Queen of Diamonds_ is likely to make me a rich enough man, that the loss'll be easier to bear!" He laughed a rough cackling sort of a laugh, but the joy in it brought a smile to Will's face.

"What's so special about her? Is it some cargo?"

"Oh, no, it's empty, except for supplies. The _Queen's_ value ain't in what she be carryin'! It's much more than that!" He laughed as though sharing a private joke with himself.

Will looked at the man quizzically, but he didn't offer any further explanation.

Trilby laughed to himself at whatever he'd believed about the _Queen_ that would make him rich, but after a few moments of silence, he turned Will's question to Will himself. "If ye don't mind me askin' 'ow is it yer 'ere and not out on the _Black Pearl_ yerself?"

Will stiffened slightly. He wasn't sure how to answer the question though he'd asked it of himself almost from the moment he'd seen the _Pearl_ sailing away. They reached the Painted Parrot and Will opened the door for his friend as he answered. "I wish I knew."

Trilby didn't leave it at that. "Ye don't know why yer 'ere and not with Sparrow? That can't be. Did ye 'ave a fallin' out? Did ye choose to leave the piratin' life be'ind ye?"

Will shook his head. "Nothing like that. Jackleft."

"'E left? 'Ow d'ya mean that?"

Will shook his head. He was uncomfortable with the questions and he would not risk saying something out of turn about Jack. Some small part of him believed Jack hadn't chosen to leave him behind. Certainly, Elizabeth wouldn't have made such a choice. He tormented himself with thoughts of one or both of them being seriously injured or terribly ill and unable either to find him or wait for him in the desperate need to reach a doctor of some kind. He spent just as much time tormenting himself with thoughts of Jack leaving him behind because it was too much bother to waste time with a man who seemed to spurn the pirate's way of life.

Then there was the chance that they'd found William Turner. Perhaps, Will thought, his father had caused this somehow. He wanted desperately to believe his father was a good man, but what if that simply were not the case? What if William Turner, Senior had somehow commandeered the ship. Such thoughts never got him far, because, logically, there'd be little reason not to wait for Will.

Trilby must have sensed Will's reluctance to speak of it, for soon the man was chattering away about other things. Will learned a lot about the man, but in the end, would not allow himself to feel any friendship with Trilby. He didn't see much point. He knew the Queen of Diamonds wasn't going to be in port for very long, and, once they'd taken on supplies or met whoever they might need to meet, or taken care of whatever business brought them here, Will knew Trilby and the Queen would be leaving.

Will enjoyed the man's company, though he knew there was only the slightest of links between the man and Will's own past, he couldn't help but cling to it.

It was on a similar night a week or more later that Will first began to become aware that, for the first time in his life, his fate was truly in his own hands.

He and Trilby sat at their usual table in the Painted Parrot when several of the crew from the _Queen_ entered the pub already drunk and already boisterous. It didn't take long before words were said, and one of the locals decided to take offense.

Will had no intention of getting involved, but one of the men recognized Trilby as being a crewmate of the other men, and before he could stop it, Will was embroiled in the growing battle. Will drew his sword to intercept a blow meant to take Trilby's head from his shoulders after the man had dropped his own weapon. The man who'd intended to claim the head as a prize in the scuffle, glared at Will, but the young Blacksmith did not back down. Instead, narrowing his eyes, and quite tired of being intimidated, Will swung his sword in a wide arc, dislodging the other man's blade from his own, and placing it menacingly at the larger man's throat.

"Leave my friend alone."

The larger man laughed. "If I don't?"

Will's eyes narrowed further, and he allowed his disinterest in his own well being to show.

Angered by the challenge he saw there, the man got his sword under Will's and began the fight in earnest. Will channeled his natural desire to protect his friend, who was, actually, too drunk to properly defend himself. He also couldn't keep his frustration over his situation from putting a bit of extra force behind each blow, and from making him just daring enough to consider moves he might have restrained himself from attempting had this happened before he'd been left behind.

He knew the art of swordplay like he knew the art of sword making. He could have fought this man had he been half drunk at the time. He wasn't half drunk, however.

He moved with an instinctual ease as though he knew where each limb should be a moment before it needed to be there, but the grace of his movements belied their ferocity, and it was a brief duel as the man he attacked recognized his inability to win.

Almost desperate, the other man took a half-step back, but stopped himself from going any further. "I ain't afraid a ye, whelp!" The man's insistence seemed to amuse Will, but his word choice did not.

The blacksmith drew back his sword and swung it again knocking the man's weapon from his hand and reaching out a hand to take the man's throat in his left hand even as his right held his sword just behind the man's left ear. Will drew up closer, stopping only when he was eye to eye and nose to nose with the man. His eyed widened in a look he might have recognized if he'd seen it on Jack Sparrow's face. He spoke in a soft voice, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Don't. Call. Me. _Whelp_."

Trilby's friends from the Queen drew their own weapons then and stood at Will's back daring any other to challenge the lad. When no one did, Trilby stepped forward and took the sword from Will's hand. "Alright then, lad, come along with ol' Trilby, then."

Outside, Trilby watched Will concern plain on his face as the others from the Queen made loud, boisterous remarks about how the boy had bested the townie. "Aye, lad, that was all right, that was!"

"Good job 'e was on _our_ side, ay?"

"Trilby, ye got any more friends like 'im?"

Trilby ignored the words as his eyes stayed riveted to Will's face. Will finally caught his eye and smiled. "I'm all right, Trilby."

"Ye sure about that, mate? Ye didn't seem yerself."

Will nodded. "I'm fine."

Trilby laughed allowing himself to be reassured. "Good, then, but remember if ye decide to turn pirate, ye come down to the Queen! We could use a lad as good in a fight as ye be!"

Will nodded, and, for the first time since he'd met Jack Sparrow, he found himself considering the merits of doing just as Trilby suggested.

He had nothing here, and, lucky as he was to have found work at the smithy, it wasn't as though he could count on making anything of himself here. He had no money, and the cost of food and other necessities made it unlikely he'd be able to put by enough to purchase passage off the island. If he did manage to make that much, the chances of being able to trust a ship full of pirates not to take his money and leave him somewhere or kill him outright were very slim.

If he signed on with the _Queen_, perhaps he could put aside enough money to get himself to Port Royalor perhaps to England. He knew it was a trap. He knew most pirates lived in debt and servitude unable to save enough money to leave the trade, but he also knew there were worse things he could be, and worse ways to spend a day than sailing on the Caribbean. It was a lot to consider, but the only thing he knew for certain was that he didn't have a lot to lose. It was a dawning realization that hit him hard.

His father had likely been faced with the same difficulties. Some similar circumstances had likely led to the creation of Bootstrap Bill the Pirate from the man who had been William Turner, Senior. It was getting to be easier to understand his father's choices, though it was also getting to be less likely that he'd ever meet the man.

He looked at Trilby, whose smile had slipped somewhat as if he'd read the thoughts tumbling around inside Will's head. "Tell me about the _Queen of Diamonds,_ Trilby, and tell me about your captain."

Trilby shook his head, but did as he was asked.

Bootstrap Bill had never been more reluctant to approach Jack. He watched from a distance as his friend steered the _Pearl, _and he wondered how mad Jack would be when he explained. Whatever happened, he only hoped Jack would let him stay aboard long enough to rescue his son.

Realizing he'd put it off for as long as he could, he approached Jack.

"Thought you'd just stand there all day, William. What's on your mind?" Jack kept his eyes on the horizon, never once turning back to look at his friend.

"I"

"Out with it, William."

"I was talkin' to Lizbeth. She's a right sweet girl" He let the thought trail.

Jack smiled. "Sweet, ay? Well, she's obviously tryin' to make up for yellin' at ye earlier. She's got a sweet side, I dare say, but she's usually savin' that for your Will. With the rest of us sorry souls, she's usually"

"What?"

Jack shrugged. "Can't say. Promised Will I'd be nice to 'er."

Bootstrap laughed. "Aye, ye like 'er, don't ya, Jack?"

"Like 'er?" He seemed about to protest, but then just smiled again. "She and Willthat's a good match. Maybe not as smart' as the match she turned down to be 'is, but it's a _good_ match."

"Turned down?" Bootstrap shook his head. "There's more 'ere I ain't 'eard yet, ain't there?"

"That there is, mate. That there is."

"Jack. I wanted to tell yeI told 'er." He waited for a reaction, but the one he got wasn't the one he'd expected.

"I thought ye might." Jack sighed and kept his eyes on the horizon.

"Ye did?"

"What exactly did you tell her?"

"All of it that I knew, Jack."

"That much" Jack considered his friend's words. He didn't know what Elizabeth would make of the tale she'd been told, but that one had a good head on her shoulders. She didn't scare easy, and she seemed more than able to take what life threw at her.

Exasperating was one word he'd use to describe her. Now that she knew about Nickhe shook his head knowing he should be talking to William, but his thoughts followed their own path. William had told Elizabeth what this was all about.

That Nick wanted to go to the island didn't surprise Jack, but that he would take this seriously enough to threaten Will's life over it astonished him. He'd have taken some persuading, but in the end, Jack would have taken Nick wherever he wanted to go. Of course, Nick was as patient under normal circumstances as Will had been when Elizabeth was in harm's way.

Nick, William, and Jack had made a pact many years earlier, before Barbossa and before the curse. They'd left a bit of treasure behind on a small island careful to make note of its location and trusting the map to Ol' Joe. The map was in the slim logbook and was drawn in Jack's own hand. The treasure they'd left behind was no ordinary treasure, however. The threesome was just paranoid enough and just impressed enough with their own cleverness that they had taken some unusual precautions.

When Jack and William had believed Nick dead, they'd made another pact. Neither of them would not return for the treasure until there was only one of them left. Then, in memory of the other two, the survivor would find any family the others had left and make sure that a third was left to any who stood to inherit it. Nick had a sister somewhere, William had his son, and Jack, well, Jack had an old reprobate of a father likely lying drunk somewhere and wondering what had happened to the son he hadn't seen in more years than he could count.

Why William and Jack decided on this was both easy and hard to explain. Jack wished it had never happened, but it had. Now Elizabeth knew about it, and somehow, that made it less a memory and more a fact. It had started several months after the raid on the ship where Nick had left no survivors.

They'd gone to an island alone, just the three of them taking a little slip of a boat probably farther than a little slip of a boat should have been trusted to go. The Pearl was in dry dock being repaired by her crew, and Jack hadn't yet learned not to trust Barbossa, whom he left in charge.

The trio had arrived at the island they'd chosen, hidden their secrets, and prepared to sail back, when Nick had grown agitated. He'd seen a boat off in the distance and become convinced that it was going to come to the island and take what they'd left the minute they'd gone. William and Jack couldn't convince him otherwise.

Jack had noticed Nick's erratic behavior, but thought Nick was simply overworked. That he could be mad never entered his thoughts. Nick's penchant for bloodshed was quickly making its mark. _The Black Pearl_ was gaining just the reputation that Nick had coveted. Whenever he could, Nick took the lives of those they robbed in as bloody and horrifying ways he could devise.

On the island, when Nick became convinced that the ship was going to rob him, he also managed to convince himself that Jack and William had planned it that way. They would sail off with the ship, depriving Nick of his treasure.

It was when Nick pulled his sword that Jack realized there would be no easy way out.

To Be Continued


	18. part 18

Once again, I have to ask forgiveness for the delay and with sincerest apologies, I offer this chapter as a peace offering. I really have not abandoned this story. I have just been busy with Real Life, illness, and other problems. Now, back on track, I do intend to finish this very soon. I do hope some of you might still be willing to review. Thanks for your understanding and for the many emails you have sent asking me to continue. I promise this story will be finished soon!

A Pirate's Life and Death part 18

See part one for disclaimer.

By Ecri

Jack Sparrow sighed and breathed deeply of the salt sea air. It usually calmed him, but his thoughts and emotions roiled like a bubbling stew–a stew full of memories, regrets, and shattered dreams.

"Just 'ow did Dear Elizabeth take the tale, William?" He thought he could guess, but Will's girl had managed to surprise him on more than one occasion.

William shrugged. "Well enough, I expect. She seemed shocked. I left out some detail, but I'd say she 'as an 'ealthy imagination."

Jack nodded. He hadn't allowed himself to think of any of this in a long time, but now it was hard not to. Nick had drawn his sword against his two best friends on that bit of rock they'd graciously called an island, convinced by whatever madness that possessed him that his two best friends had always planned to take all he had and leave him for dead.

"It was yer plot all along, weren't it, Jack? That's why you stepped in to be named Captain o' the Pearl so quickly!" Nick had insisted as he waved the sword in a haphazard arc that suggested he'd forgotten about it as his mind reordered the past painting innocent moments with suspicion and paranoia.

"Nick, be reasonable" was as far as Jack got before Nick lunged at him. Jack drew his sword in his own defense, but only reluctantly did he deflect Nick's blows, and he couldn't bring himself to attack.

William stared at them, and Jack saw shock on his face as William realized what was going on. "Nick, Jack! Stop it, now! We've made plans and we best stick to 'em!" William's words fell on deaf ears, however, as Nick's fury grew."

Jack fought as well as he could, but could not bring himself to strike a serious blow. Nick drew blood twice before Jack began to take the duel seriously. "Nick! Stop it, mate! Put it down!" Jack gestured towards the sword, but Nick's grip only tightened and his grin was tinged with mania.

"I ain't listenin' to the likes o' you, Jack Sparrow!" He lunged and succeeded in slicing through Sparrow's left arm–not deeply, but the pain and surprise of it caused Jack to stumble as Nick crowed in triumph.

They fought for some time, and Jack felt the sting of sweat trickling into his eyes as he backed away wishing for a way to surrender without forfeiting his life, for he was convinced that the three of them could not leave this island alive. After he stumbled for a third time, Nick began an incessant chatter that Jack recognized was meant to infuriate him beyond reason so he would make some rash move and give Nick the upper hand.

__

Ignore it, he told himself, as Nick spoke ill of a mother Jack had never known. _Don't give 'im the satisfaction_, he counseled himself as Nick spoke of him as though he were a lass willing to give away whatever any pirate might be willing to take from him.

"Ahh, but Jack," Nick whispered, "I'm forgettin' ain't I? I'm forgettin' the key to knowin' 'ow to beat a man like you! Yer as dishonest as the day is long

__

True, Sparrow thought.

"Yer as trusting as a maid in love," Nick added.

__

True, Jack admitted to himself rather grudgingly. He did have a tendency to trust people. The wrong people, he amended as he and Nick fought.

"Ye'd rather give quarter than kill those what might identify ye and make a name for yerself spelled out in bloody letters!" Nick spoke more loudly, his sword punctuating his points.

__

All true, Jack agreed.

Nick swept his sword in a feint and then brought it in to catch Jack's in a strong blow. The two struggled for dominance as Nick, his voice dropping to a whisper, added his greatest insult. "Yer not worthy of bearin' the title of captain, and ye never will be! Yer too honest to be a proper pirate, and yer too stupid to know that! The Black Pearl deserves a better man at the wheel than _Jack Sparrow_!" Nick said Jack's name with as much contempt as he could muster, his eyes wide and full of fury.

He lunged at Jack then, and all Jack could think was how he would make his one time friend eat his words.

Jack parried everything Nick threw at him, and finally going on the offensive, he managed to toss Nick's sword away. He held his own sword at his surprised friend's throat and leaned closer, so Nick would hear his words. "That's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow." He drew his sword back, but in that instant, his blade was struck from his own hand.

Bewildered, Jack looked up into the desperate face of his only friend. William held his eyes and helped Nick to his feet.

Jack drew himself from the memory of that fight with great effort. He didn't look at his friend but rather stared at the sea as he spoke. "I never 'eld ye to blame for it, William. Ye weren't quite yerself"

"Pull the other one, Jack. It's got bells on."

"What d'ye mean?"

"I mean, yer either kiddin' yerself, or yer tryin' to pull one over on me. I was near enough myself. I was as well as I was goin' ta be fer a long time, and ye know it." He sighed. "Even if ye didn't 'old me to blame, Jack, I did. I told Elizabeth about it, and I said I'd allowed 'im to do it."

Now Jack did turn and face his friend. "Ye didn't, William. Ye weren't ta blame. Ye were as surprised as I was by Nick's behavior. It was next to impossible for me to do what I was doin'. It couldn't 'ave been easy to stand there and watch me and Nick tryin' to kill each other."

"Would ye 'ave?"

"Killed 'im?"

William nodded.

Jack thought about it long and hard. After several minutes he shook his head. "I don't know. I meant to at the time. I did. I don't know if I'd 'ave 'esitated at the last moment, but I intended to. Not for what he said, but for what he meant to do. 'E would 'ave killed us both and takin' what we'd left, and I don't think 'e'd 'ave sought yer son and me old dad to give 'em our share."

William nodded. "Nick lost his mind somewhere out there on the ocean."

"If 'e ever 'ad it to begin with."

Nick stared at the man he held hostage. "Will Turner." He whispered, and indeed, in his mind the man was the son of Bootstrap Bill. "Ye would 'ave been better off never lookin' fer yer father."

The man trembled under his gaze, and Nick enjoyed the power that gave him. He knelt next to his prisoner. "Ye might 'ave 'ad a pleasanter life if ye'd stayed in England, lad." When he got no response, he leaned menacingly closer. "Don't ye think?"

The man nodded vigorously and Nick stood, satisfied. He strolled across the deck and looked at the food Elizabeth had left at the door. He'd eaten his share, and was wondering if, today, he'd give his prisoner his half, or just eat it himself. Rations were small aboard ship, and it had been weeks since the Black Pearl had put in for supplies. His portion had been small, unsatisfying, but he knew he didn't really want more.

He placed the second portion on the floor by the bound man and stepped back watching as his prisoner, forced by hunger and circumstance, had to get down on his belly and lap up the small meal like a dog. He ate it fast, and was all too soon sitting up again, no doubt wishing he'd taken some time.

Nick laughed. "I see ye weren't taken chances like last time, ay?"

The last time he'd decided to allow the man to eat, the prisoner had taken longer about it. Irritated by the sounds of the wolfish feeding frenzy, Nick had suddenly, violently, taken the food away, tossing it against the door. The sound of the tray striking the think wooden door had brought the sound of feet running about outside. Though Nick heard much discussion, and a loud, feminine voice making demands of those around her, it was Jack who'd come to the door, cleared his throat, and asked if everything were all right.

Nick had laughed then even as he laughed now to remember it.

"'Ave we reached our destination? No? Then go! Leave me be!"

"Nick, let me get the lad some medical attention. Be reasonable! Ye 'ave what ye want"

"Ye 'ave no idea at all what I want, Jack Sparrow!"

There'd been silence then, and he'd heard Jack's familiar low-pitched rumbling speech. He knew they'd placed a guard at his door with orders to burst in and rescue the lad if things sounded too rough. No matter. He could restrain himself.

"Ye'll die with yer father, Will Turner."

The prisoner trembled visibly, eyes wide in fear.

Will Turner sat up, his heart pounding, and his eyes wide, though it was dream images and not the smithy he saw. It took several moments to clear his head of the last vestiges of that horrifying vision. He'd seen it again. His father dying at the bottom of the ocean because he'd broken the curse.

He cursed himself now for a fool. His life had been spent searching for his father, then for a niche, a way of life he could call his own, and then, finally, for a woman he'd loved from afar and had been unable to woo. He stared across the darkened smithy toward the low embers of yesterday's fire. His dream induced fear was subsiding to be replaced by a reality induced one. He would die alone having never found what he sought.

What did he seek? Images flashed through his mind, but he realized they were dreams of a different sort. He saw himself with Elizabeth on his arm. He was a well-respected man in their little hamlet, and he was not less than anyone else merely because he was a blacksmith born to a pirate. He saw a home, a familya future that might never be his unless he learned the one lessen he had resisted for so long.

Men were not doomed to be just what they'd been. He could become just as wealthy as a well-respected smith as he could doing almost any other trade. If he worked, and worked hard

He was kidding himself again, and well he knew it. He worked as hard as a man may, and as many hours as the Lord put in a day, yet his work was assumed to be Mr. Brown's. He had to set himself up in his own shop. He had to make enough money as a smith to make a life for Elizabeth

Of course, where Elizabeth was right now was anyone's guess. Why she and Jack had left him, he still could not quite work out. He did not believe they would voluntarily abandon him, yet they had. What had caused it? What had happened?

He tossed his small, thin blanket aside, and crept to the window, peering out at the full moon. Elizabeth was out there, on that ocean somewhere. So was Jack. The chances of them returning for him were almost nonexistent, so his only course of action was to find them. The only way to do that was to find passage on some other vessel and search for them. This had occurred to him often since the night of the storm. Trilby was persuasive and the older man wanted him along. Will supposed it was because they shared some sort of history no matter how minor or how little he remembered of the time they'd sailed together on the Pearl.

Knowing that there was even one man that you could trust was a blessing aboard a pirate ship.

Pirate ship. That was the rub. He had rejected the notion of becoming a pirate too vehemently in his past to push aside his objections and sign up now. He remembered Jack's insistence that he had the blood of a pirate. He remembered the realization of how right that had been when he'd learned that Barbossa needed his blood, his father's blood, to end the curse.

Could he do it? Could he pillage and plunder and all those other things in that absurd little song Elizabeth had taught him when they were children?

He wanted to say no. He wanted to cling to his morals, but an apprentice smith made very little working, as Will now did, for a man who would have been a pirate had he made different choices in his life. Even if he somehow raised enough money to buy passage off the island, could he trust the pirates who made berth here to honor their pact and take him safely toto wherever he asked them to take him?

He couldn't.

A pirate. He hated the idea, but at least he'd be off this rock and out in the world looking for Elizabeth. It would, of course, be difficult to leave the ship once he'd joined its crew. He'd heard enough tales in his time here to know that much. You sign on, and basically sign your life away. Slavery, piracy, it was all the same really.

One difficult decision at a time, he counseled himself.

He would talk to Trilby. He needed to know more about the ship, her captain, and her crew. No more would he leap without looking. Now, he would have to devise a plan.

Trilby whistled a jaunty tune as he walked back to _The Queen_ to see the captain. He'd had a long talk with Will Turner, and the lad was willing to join them. The Captain, of course, had to make the final decision. He wasn't sure he'd be too keen on the idea, but with most of the rest of the crew having taken a shine to the lad, he figured the captain could be persuaded.

The captain was an easy-going sort. Not too demanding and not big on formality, but he did like to run a tight ship. That, and the ship itself was special. It had taken months for the captain to trust him with just how special. Now, he knew he'd not sail voluntarily on any other. _The Queen_ was more ship than he'd ever crewed before, and he wanted to share his good fortune with the only other man he'd ever met who seemed to have worse luck than he himself.

Will Turner's life story seemed an improbable tale, and Trilby had only learned bits and pieces of it. The lad deserved a bit of good luck. Trilby had been astonished to find the young blacksmith had been the one to save him from the depths during the storm. When he'd slipped beneath the waves, he'd been sure that was the end. He'd never hoped that anyone would leap in to save him, nor would he have guessed it could possibly be someone he knew.

He shook his head in disbelief. The Captain had met the lad. Surely he'd want to have him aboard. Surely the _Queen_ had enough magicenough fortune to go around.

He knocked on the door to the Captain's cabin, and, given permission to enter, begged the man's pardon. "I meant not to disturb ye, but I be wonderin' if ye'd given thought to replacin' the men we lost in the storm."

The captain looked him over and Trilby waited.

"Who did you have in mind, Mr. Trilby?"

"Will Turner. 'E's a good lad lookin' ta break a streak of bad luck. Sure an' ye could use a man like 'im, couldn't ye?"

The captain considered the words. "Have you told him anything about the _Queen_?"

"It weren't me place. He's a good lad, 'e is." Trilby shifted a but from foot to foot. "I've sailed wi'im before. I assumed he was the one" he cleared his throat realizing he might be pushing the Captain to far. If Will were the one the Queen needed, the Captain would know it before Trilby did.

The captain smiled. "I'll meet the lad, and led you know, Trilby. Have him aboard by end of day. We sail first thing tomorrow."

Trilby nodded, much relieved, and left to find Turner.

Will felt no remorse at leaving this place behind. Trilby's news that the Captain has accepted him had surprised him, but he had wasted no time. He had precious few belongings to take with him, and no obligation to anyone but himself. He'd informed his employer of his departure, and the man shrugged as though he'd known all along that Will would not be staying.

Now, aboard the _Queen_, Will tried not to think to much about how life at sea seemed to suit him. He told himself it was only natural that he'd felt a surge of optimism when the _Queen_ had pulled free of the dock and sailed off toward the horizon. He was finally doing something positive. He was once more going in search of Elizabeth.

Though he still could not fathom why she and Jack had left him behind, he did know that Elizabeth loved him. Not because he was, as she said, a pirate, and not because he had saved her life. She loved _him_. She had told him as much soon after Jack's initial departure.

They had kissed. Will had lost himself in that kiss. His love for Elizabeth had been something he'd kept hidden for so long, that it startled him to be able to express it in such a way, but once his lips had touched hers, Will found a joy he had never known in expressing himself.

When they had parted, Elizabeth looked up into his eyes. "I love you, Will Turner."

He smiled at her and took her hand in his holding it gently. "I love you, Elizabeth Swann."

Hearing his own voice speak aloud the words he had hardly dared to whisper for so long had been a release of sorts and he almost laughed. To his surprise, Elizabeth did laugh.

"I'm sorry" she gasped. "I've just wanted to say that for so long"

They'd talked on the long walk back to her house. He'd insisted on seeing her to her door, though she'd insisted that she would allow it only if they walked. He readily agreed since it would take much longer to walk to the Governor's Mansion, thereby extending their time together. There was another reason, however. Hiring a carriage for her would have cost him a great deal.

The walk had been surprisingly short to him, though he knew it was because he was enjoying Elizabeth's company. This had been their first chance to spend so much time together. The long voyage back to Port Royal from Isle de Muerta had not been a social one. Governor Swann had refused to allow Will to spend time with Elizabeth, and, under the glaring eye of Commodore Norrington, Will had found it easier to spend his days deep in conversation with Jack Sparrow.

As they walked, Elizabeth had explained to him how she had loved him since their childhood. Will had been astonished. He had always loved her, it was true, but he had not dared to hope that she could feel the same way.

Jack had laughed at him from his place behind bars aboard the Dauntless. "She loves you, you bloody fool. She risked herself to save you."

"She's betrothed to another man."

Jack had sighed. "One day, Will, you are going to learn what sacrifice looks like, and I think you'll be amazed to discover it looks a lot like a woman marrying the wrong man."

Will had pondered his friends words all the way back to Port Royal, and he'd been surprised when, upon reaching the place he'd called home for nearly half his life, he found that it did not fit as it had before. It seemed smaller than he remembered. It seemed less daunting to face returning to Mr. Brown to see if he still had a position with the drunkard, or, if worse came to worse, to find a way to support himself on his own. It seemed as though the town had shrunkor, perhaps, that he had grown.

He'd pondered nothing else but Jack and Elizabeth during Jack's sham of a trial, and it was upon the morning of Jack's would-be execution that he had realized that he could not stand by any longer. Not another day would pass without him telling Elizabeth how he felt. He could allow another day to pass if he did not tell her. If he did, he would not be able to face himself in the mirror each morning. This revelation led him to realize that there were other things he could not allow to happen if he wished to look himself in the mirror each morning.

His plan had started out as simply the idea that Jack could not die at the end of a Hangman's noose while he, Will Turner, son of Bootstrap Bill Turner, drew breath. He knew the force and distance he would need to throw his sword in order to give Jack a place to perch. It need only be for a short time. Death did not come swiftly for those hanged. Will needed only to buy enough time to enable him to cut the rope and free Jack.

It had surprised him how easy it had been to tell Elizabeth that he loved her. It had been just as easy to tell Norrington and Elizabeth's father that Jack did not deserve death.

Permission to woo Elizabeth was not something he had ever dreamed Governor Swann would grant, but he had learned how difficult it was to deny Elizabeth what she wanted. That she wanted him only made him more determined now to find her.

Where might the _Black Pearl_ have gone? Why leave so suddenly?

As he threw himself into his chores aboard the _Queen_ pondering such questions, he realized that this life, a life aboard a pirate ship, fit him well–like something well worn and familiar. He did not contemplate it any further than that.

Captain Hamilton of the_ Queen of Diamonds_ watched his newest crew member as the young lad helped mend a sail. He took to the work easily, the Captain noted, and his diligence and easy-going attitude had made him popular among the crew.

Of course, the new ones were often popular. Everyone wanted a gander at the Ship's latest acquisition. It was the Ship that called to the men who served her after all. Hamilton had long believed that, but never as completely as he had since he had taken command of _the Queen_. He had served aboard her man and boy for more years than he'd have thought possible. He'd been right when he'd thought the sea would claim his life, for it had, but this had not been how he'd meant it.

__

The Queen of Diamonds had had a bad run of luck far longer than any ship not already cursed by some otherworldly power should have had to endure. Hamilton considered it to be a test of sorts, and, at times, he was still unsure if he and his crew had passed. Regardless of the judgement of Fate, The crew of the _Queen_ had learned to accept the cards they had been dealt. Picking up strays had become part of the routine.

Hamilton had known Trilby would be the one on this trip to recommend a new crewmember. That it had turned out to be the lad who had saved him from the sea hadn't surprised him. The Ship had a hand in that, he was sure. _The Queen_ was as demanding as any human woman he had ever met, and Hamilton would not have been surprised to learn it had lured the lad to the shore merely to entice him to her hold.

It wasn't an easy existence sailing endlessly across the seas, but Hamilton loved it nonetheless. He continued watching Will Turner, recognizing the contentment he saw in the younger man's face. Will was pleased to be aboard and had said as much when Trilby had introduced him to his new Captain.

Hamilton had insisted that Trilby leave them alone for a moment, and when the door had shut behind the pirate, Hamilton had turned to Will. "Our Mr. Trilby seems to have a high opinion of you, lad. Now, you tell me why I should take you on."

Will had looked Hamilton in the eye–something Hamilton had found that few potential crewmen took the liberty to do. "I have some experience sailing, and I will work hard."

"You don't intend to make piracy your life." It wasn't a question. Hamilton could see a love of the sea in the man, and he knew this was a crossroads for him. He'd seen enough men at a similar place in their lives to recognize the signs. Tired of what he had, longing for something betterbut there was something else, something Hamilton couldn't define. It must be that something that the _Queen_ had called.

"I don't." Will was silent for a moment. "I won't lie to you, Captain. I'm searching for someone."

Hamilton smiled. "Searching? We're all searching for something, Turner." He considered the set to the other man's face. "When you find this person, what is it you plan to do?"

Hamilton saw calculation in the boy's eyes. "That's enough of an answer, lad. Justbefore you join yourremember to ask yourself something."

A flash of puzzlement appeared and disappeared almost at the same instant in Will Turner's eyes, and Hamilton took it as his cue to continue. "Ask yourself if you do what you do for them, for you, or for some other reason. Ask yourself if you wouldn't be better off sailing with me aboard _The Queen_ than chasing after something you've lostthat is, if you ever actually had it to lose."

Hamilton saw that, though he wanted to disregard his new Captain's statement, Will Turner was asking himself those questions. With any luck, Hamilton thought, the boy was about to learn more about life than he'd ever dreamed.

Elizabeth stared unseeing at the watery horizon wishing only that there were some feasible plan she could devise that would see her at Will's side. Her anxieties gnawed at her until she felt like a bundle of raw nerves. She could barely speak to anyone past the lump in her throat. She could hardly look at Jack or Bootstrap Bill without feeling an intense though irrational anger at each of them for allowing this to happen. She could hardly walk past Jack's quarter's without needing to fight the urge to throw herself at the door and beat it down with her bare hands.

She saw Jack sitting on a length of coiled rope and marched towards him glaring at the back of his head until he recognized her presence.

"What can I do for you Elizabeth," he asked without turning to face her.

Elizabeth continued to glare.

"Come, now, love. I'm no mind reader."

"You know what's on my mind." Her voice was soft, but threatening and insistent.

Jack sighed heavily before getting to his feet, and, slipping a knife she hadn't seen him holding into some secret place within the folds of his clothing. "Same thing that's on my mind." He shrugged. "Same thing that's on William's mind, I expect. No one wants Will hurt. We'll get him away from Nick. I promise you that."

"We don't know how badly he might be injured, Jack."

"No, but we do know that Nick has no use for a dead hostage."

Elizabeth could not hide her exasperation. "Well, if we can't get a look at him, how are we going to know if the hostage is" She swallowed hard unwilling to say the word in reference to Will.

Jack took a step forward invading Elizabeth's space and kept moving forcing Elizabeth to take a step back. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you are the only one who cares for Will. Don't make the mistake of thinking you know precisely what is going on here. Onlt three people can know that. That'd be William"

He took another step closer to Elizabeth, and she stepped back once more.

"" Again, he moved closer, forcing Elizabeth backwards.

"and me." He took a last step forward and Elizabeth found herself bumping up against the mast.

"Now" He said, moving back. "Go below and stay there until I say otherwise."

Elizabeth stepped closer to him, refusing to show how intimidated she'd felt. "I will not hide"

To her surprise, Jack grinned. "You'll do as I say, lass, because I'll not be the one who has to tell Will that something horrid has happened his lady love once we do get him away from Nick." His voice and eyes softened slightly, though Elizabeth couldn't say why. "Do as I ask, Elizabeth. I don't need another worry."

Elizabeth nodded backing slowly away from him and retreating below decks. She did not like the idea of following orders, especially Jack Sparrow's orders, but she did recognize one thing. Demanding things from him now was pointless. It was obvious he either had no plan, or had not yet completely given himself to whatever course of action that had sprung to mind.

She wanted Will and she wanted to help free him. She'd never have dreamed that some madman across the water would take him from her again, but if she wanted to see him again, she would need a plan much more detailed than simply the vague desire that he be safe and well and by her side. She began to ponder her options.

Jack knew they were closing in on their destination. He had considered dawdling on the seas on the assumption that Nick was so far gone that he would not remember the proper way to get there. Reason had won out. Reason had had a helping hand when his mind had conjured images of whatever retaliation Nick would use upon Will if Jack didn't do precisely as he was told.

He realized that the closer they got to the treasure that Nick believed he was getting, the more precarious was their situation. Nick wanted revenge after all, and was likely considering ways to make both William and Jack suffer. What better way than to carry through with his threat to hurt Will?

Jack hated one thing above most others in this world and that one thing was feeling helpless. It was a condition he had abandoned long ago, but that kept trying to seize him by the throat. He'd thought he'd felt the last of it when he'd first watched Barbossa sail away from that slip of an island expecting him to take his own life. He'd felt it yet again when Will Turner had held a gun to his own head precipitating Jack's and Elizabeth's marooning on that same slip of beach, rock, and rum. Then, again, he'd felt it when he'd felt the hangman's noose slip over his head and caress his throat with its coarse fibers.

Standing here trying not to relive the past lest it interfere with both his present and his future–such as it was–Jack knew he could not afford to indulge the feeling again. He needed a plan.

Trouble was he was having a great deal of difficulty finding one.

He needed the upper hand. He needed to find either a way to convince Nick that no one meant him ill, or that there was no need to hurt Will.

Jack had tried for so many years to block out the memory of what had happened that looking back on it now was almost painful. He remembered the island. Smaller even than the one Barbossa had found later, he realized. Nick thought that he and William meant to rob him of his riches. He thought that they'd meant all along to cheat him and leave him to die. That such a thought had never crossed their minds didn't matter.

He and Nick had fought, and neither of them had exactly won. He could still remember the smell of blood, the staccato rhythm of the swords parrying, and the way the sand shifted beneath his feet as he and Nick tried to kill each other.

Jack had long wondered if he would have killed Nick, but he couldn't answer that question for himself any better than he had answered it for William. He'd intended to at the time, but survival–and William–had robbed him of that choice.

They were very nearly evenly matched, but Jack was distracted. He was terrified of killing his friend, and he was worried about William. He wasn't stupid enough to think that, if Nick won and killed Jack, that Nick would then allow William to live. William was in no condition to go head to head with Nick.

He tried to reason with Nick. He pleaded with the other man to see sense, but each plea he made was met with a renewed attack and more than a few direct hits. His limbs bled freely now from the several wounds he'd received, and he danced as well as a man could on sand.

It was only after William had knocked Jack's sword from his hand and helped Nick to his feet that things had gone irreparably bad.

Nick had stood slowly, calculatingly, making it seem he was more hurt than he was Jack had later realized. Then, with a speed impossible to behold, he had pulled William's own sword from its scabbard before shoving the still weak man with a viciousness he'd only hinted at while plundering other ships.

Jack fell into a crouch and rolled towards his own dropped weapon, coming up with it a bit short. He heard Nick's triumphant laughter as his cold steel sliced easily into Jack's abdomen. Jack's sword fell from his hand even as he looked into Nick's face.

"I'll be taking what's mineand what's yours, Jack Sparrow."

Jack had stared up at the man, fully expecting the next blow to end his life. Time, however, seemed slowed, and it took the wounded man several moments to realize that the tableau had been frozen for several moments too long.

He blinked as he saw the tip of a short blade protruding from the area around Nick's left shoulder.

"That's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow." Nick's mouth had opened but it was William's steady, soft voice that had come forth. Bootstrap Bill lowered the injured man to the sand and looked Jack in the eye. "We best get ye back t'the Pearl."

Jack nodded and allowed his friend to help him up. "What about him?" He gestured toward Nick.

"Looks like 'e fell behind."

Jack and William had thought better of it once, and had returned to the island only to find bonesand a skull with a bullet through the head. They'd assumed it was Nick. Jack saw now that it must have been someone else. Someone who'd had the misfortune to choose Nick's little island for some purpose, and had instead been surprised–murdered or left behind–while Nick commandeered his boat or his place on some ship and begun a search for his two friends.

William had filled him in on Nick's taking of his name and on the long chase the two men had begun. First, Nick had chased after William seeking revenge, then, William had chased after Nick seeking to clear his own name. Jack saw now how like Nick this all seemed. He'd truly lost his sanity somewhere along the way, either from short rations, intense heat, too many days at sea, or some unfathomable reason having little to do with his chosen profession. It could have been any one of them, Jack knew. He'd sailed too long and in too many bizarre circumstances not to realize that he had come dangerously close to trading his sanity for a suntan on more than one occasion. He could only hope that it wasn't too late to set this to rights. If Nick held even a shred of his old self, surely he could be made to see reason. If not, well, Jack wouldn't allow the man to hurt Will. Now that the chance was staring him in the face, he was going to reunite Will with his father. William with his son.

Jack was beginning to find an idea among the meandering thoughts flooding his mind, and he felt the beginnings of a plan finally coming to him. He grinned as it began to take form. In a soft voice he whispered, "Drink up me hearties, yo ho."

Will inhaled deeply of the sharp tang of salt air as he expertly lowered himself down the rigging. He had come to love the rhythms of life aboard ship in a way he hadn't been able to before now. His last voyage aboard the Pearl he'd been too ill to be aware of anything except how ill he was. The time before that, when he'd first sailed with Jack Sparrow, he'd been too focused on finding Elizabeth. His every thought had been for her. He'd worried over her safety, over what the pirates were doing to her, and over whether or not he would be able to tell her of his love for her once he found her. He hadn't, of course, until much later.

He found it somewhat unsettling that life aboard ship agreed with him. After his initial voyage at the age of thirteen, he'd embraced life on land wholeheartedly. Nightmares of the pirate attack, of the sinking of the ship, and the black sails of the cursed Black Pearl had left him unable to sleep for weeks.

He'd assumed the trauma of it had left him unable to sail. That he now realized he'd merely been unwillingstartled him. Unwilling. Before he'd sailed with Jack he'd been unwilling to speak of his love for Elizabeth to the one person he should have spoken toElizabeth. He'd also been unwilling to do anything positive to make a case to woo Elizabeth because he assumed he'd be deemed unsuitable by her father and feared he'd be deemed unsuitable by Elizabeth herself. He'd also been unwilling to accept the idea that his father was lost to him, and later, he'd been unwilling to even entertain the notion that his father–whom he'd believed to be a respectable sailor–was actually Bootstrap Bill Turner, a pirate.

He'd spent his life being unwilling to do anything. To strive for anything. He'd become adept at smithing and at swordplay, but aside from that, had achieved little.

Now, here aboard the Queen, he realized he wanted to do moreto be more. He was now unwilling to allow his life to be a list of what he could notwould notdo. He had defined himself too long by what he was to other people. William Turner's son, a blacksmith's apprentice, Elizabeth'she smiled at himself now realizing that before he had dared break a pirate out of prison and search the seas for Elizabeth, he had never quite done more than dream of the possibility of being Elizabeth's suitor. It was unattainable. It had taken the long, unlikely adventure courtesy of Barabossa and his cursed crew to make him able to tell Elizabeth what had burned in his heart since the moment he'd seen her.

He would no longer play that fool. There was no reason that he could not be what he chose, and if, he smiled again, he now chose to be a pirate for some short period of time, then so be it. There was no shame in it. He had a great deal of respect for Jack Sparrow, and Jack had said that Will's father had been a good man.

He held onto that thought with all his heart, but knew now, as he hadn't before, that regardless of the kind of man his father was, he was not tied to his father's fate unless he chose to be. He would use piracy for a while–he ignored the sting of his conscience asking him if he were truly ready for what that might entail–and he would find Elizabeth. He would give up searching for his father. Whether Bootstrap Bill was dead or alive, his son had wasted too much of his life in pursuit of a dream. It was time his dream's hinged on what he would chose to be and not cling to some image from the past that he could never reclaim. Even if he found his father, the time for bonding in a true father and son relationship was long past. The dreams of his childhood of finding his father and living a life with him were born of his own grief over his mother's death, and the shock of finding himself quite alone in the world. He had been, in all but fact, an orphan seeking a home, searching for someone to put his life right. It was a hard lesson to learn, but he had learned that he was the only one who could set anything right.

As for his father, he could, at best, be friends with the man whose name he bore. That would be enough. It would no longer haunt him.

He called down to Trilby and tossed a coil of rope to the man, as he climbed down and landed upon the ship's deck. Trilby clapped him on the back.

"You made quick work o'that, son."

Will laughed. "It seemed I was up there forever."

Trilby nodded knowingly. "Aye, that be the spell of salt air and ocean song that fiddled with yer sense of time."

Trilby looked at the young man, and Will had the feeling he was being judged, assessed. When Trilby smiled and smiled, seemingly to approve of something he'd seen, Will laughed again, and turned back to the chores that still needed doing.

He didn't notice Trilby glance skyward and nod as though he'd heard some instruction, nor did he sense the Captain's steady gaze as he became engrossed with repairs to the deck.

Nick barely noticed his own shivering, didn't begin to register the cold sweat that dripped down his face and into his eyes as he stared hard at the door. The door to his cabinfor he was the Captain of this vessel. He was one true captain of the Black Pearl regardless of Jack Sparrow's years at the helm. Fever-bright, his eyes didn't blink, didn't focus on the door, though they sawoh, they saw.

Sparrow's betrayal played out before him, and Nick now realized that Sparrow and Turner had played him for a fool all those years ago. For years they had allowed Nick to believe in their friendship and they had taken the first chance fate presented to them to take Nick's ship from him.

Rage spread through him–a warm glow that forced a sinister cackle from between his cracked lips.

His eyes rested now on a forlorn figure huddled in the far corner of the room, and he cut his laughter short. His captivehis revenge

He saw the boy–the son of one enemy and the friend of the other–stop his own shivering and he darted over to the boy's side. Grabbing the younger man by the hair, he hauled him to his feet.

"We're nearly there. Soon, they'll payand so will you."

Eyes widening in fear and apprehension, the boy swallowed audibly, which only sent Nick into further paroxysms.

Elizabeth has woken suddenly sitting straight up and staring at the wall across from her makeshift bed. She blinked several times, unsure for a moment what troubled her, until her dream replayed itself in her mind. It had been Will. She'd dreamed that he was sailing through rough seas to find her. He'd heard his voice, full of anguish and determination, calling to her. Believing Will needed her, she darted above deck, but the closer she drew to the room–to the cabin where that madman held her Will–the further she felt from him. She stopped in her tracks. Fear gripped her heart. Was Willhad heshe shook her head refusing to believe Nick had killed him. He needed Will to insure

Or maybe he didn't.

She blinked rapidly wondering where these thoughts had come from. Nick didn't need Will. He needed them to believe he held Will. He needed them to think Will was in jeopardy so that Jack would do his bidding. What if he had killed Will? What if Will was dying now even as she stood there debating with herself over the possibility?

She broke into a run and would have hurled herself headlong at the door that separated her from her darling Will if something hadn't stopped her. Screaming her rage and clawing and tearing at the arms that encircled her waist like iron bars, she didn't realize who it was until he'd carried her across the deck and released her.

She was spun around to lock eyes with Captain Jack Sparrow. His eyes were wide and as enraged as her own, and he leaned in close to her invading her personal space. His arms were locked on either side of her clasping the rail and effectively imprisoning her.

Rage coursed through her but before she could spit her words demanding her release, he spoke. His voice was low, menacing in a way she'd never heard from him before. "Nick ain't one to handle surprise well, lass. You startle him, you scare him, and"

"It's for Will that I did that! I think he might"

Jack stared at her and in his eyes she saw a willingness to listen to her, but now it seemed so ridiculous. I think Will might be"

"What?" Jack's brow furrowed at her hesitation. "You think he's dead." It wasn't a question.

"We haven't seen him. We haven't heard a word from him. Why won't Nick at least let one of us in to treat his injuries?"

"Nick needs him alive."

"He doesn't. He just needs us to believe he'll hurt Will if we don't do as we're asked."

Sparrow's eyes narrowed. Elizabeth shivered at how sinister it made him look, but she concentrated on his words.

"What is it you're sayin'?"

"We haven't seen him. We haven't heard him. What do you think I'm saying?"

Jack's eyes widened and he stepped back releasing his grip on the rail. Elizabeth didn't run. She didn't move. She waited for him to speak. She knew he was smarter than may gave him credit for, and she knew he was considering and discarding half a hundred scenarios in the time it took her to calm her breathing.

"Jack"

"No! Nick 'as Will in there! If 'e doesn't"

She nodded. "Then where is Willand who is in there?"

Jack swung an arm around her shoulders and she allowed him to lead her below.

The water was rough and growing rougher. Jack, Elizabeth, and William had been considering their options for some time now, and Jack felt no closer to a solution than he had when Elizabeth had first planted this despicable notion in his mind. He'd been formulating a plan before this. He'd believed he could use Nick's insecurities against him and draw him out of the cabin where William and Jack could overpower him and retrieve the injured Will.

He knew now it was still the best plan. He'd listened to Elizabeth's arguments and to William's thoughts on Nick, but the decision was ultimately his own. He knew he'd be forced to remind Elizabeth of that, but he could count on William's support. He had seen that much in his long time friend's eyes. William trusted Jack with his son's life. It was the highest praise Jack could think of.

"Elizabeth," Jack whispered as he looked with regret into the young woman's eyes. It was all he needed to say.

"No, Jack! You can't risk Will"

Jack shook his head. "What would ye 'ave me do, lass? If it is or isn't Will that Nick is holding, we're still faced with the same problem. Nick 'as us where 'e wants us. We have to remove that threat before we can check on the lad. If it ain't Will Turner, we'll know soon enough. Then we can go and find the lad."

Elizabeth was reluctant to concede the point. That much was obvious, but Jack knew she'd see reason. Even as he watched he saw the change in her eyes. He decided to push. "What would ye 'ave me do, Elizabeth?" He asked again.

She exhaled loudly but then she caught his eyes with her own and nodded once.

Jack smiled. "Good girl." He looked from William to Elizabeth and back again. "Then it's up to the two of you. Make sure Nick 'ears it all."

The two nodded and Jack watched them go. Nick would hear it all. Nick, being Nick, would not be able to pass up a chance like this. He should have been happy, but he wasn't. The idea that perhaps he'd left Will Turner stranded in a pirate's haven with no money, no chance of bartering passage, and no one to watch his back sent a shiver down his spine to rest in a lead heap in the pit of his stomach.

Nick listened to the laughter outside his doors. Creeping carefully forward he put against the wood and listened. At first he heard the cacophony of too many voices speaking at once, each trying to be heard. He frowned and listened harder, wincing when more laugher greeted his ears.

"I'm tellin' ye true! Only me and Jack ever sailed wi' the man before, and none of ye forget it! Nick weren't never nothin' but a coward! Jack says 'e ain't likely ever to come out from there as long as 'e 'as a sick lad to 'ide behind! Jack told ye about a man too afraid of heights to climb the riggin'? That be Nick!"

Again laughter–at his expense Nick now realized! Blind rage flooded him and he opened his mouth but was unable to give it voice. He glanced back at his insurance policy. The boy sat as far back in the corner as it was possible to sit. His eyes drifted shut and snapped open repeatedly as the boy fought sleep.

Afraid! He'd show them who was afraid! He'd made Bill's son too afraid to sleep!

He darted across the room and roughly hauled the lad to his feet. Eyes wide, the boy tried to pull away, but Nick's grip would not be broken. "Come along, Turner" Something in the back of his mind balked at using that name. Somethingsomething he couldn't quite recall about Will Turnertold him the name was wrong. He concentrated on that feeling, pulling, tugging, and chasing it around his mind hoping there was some way to bring it to light. Frustration forced him to abandon it when a loud laugh from outside the door reminded him once more of the reason he'd grabbed the boy to begin with.

"Come along, boy!" He snarled, spitting his words in distaste. "We'll let your papa see 'ow afraid _I_ am of _Jack Sparrow_."

To Be Continued


	19. part 19

Pirate's Life and Death part 19

By Ecri

The nights were long and the tang of the salt air had long since passed beyond notice, but Will Turner, staring up at the stars, could not help but note that he had achieved a contentment he could not have foreseen. He still worried dearly over Elizabeth and Jack, and what could have caused them to abandon him so many months ago, but he had found something on this voyage he did not know was missing; himself. It was a surprising thing to awake one morning and to realize you were comfortable in your own skin having never noticed that you had not been before.

What had been the cause, Will did not know, but he had become more adept, more skilled, more confident_more_.

He no longer doubted that he would find Elizabeth and Jack. It was a foregone conclusion. He could not have said _when_, of course, but it didn't matter. He would not abandon his search should it cost him all the years of his life. In the meantime, however, he would learn as much as he was capable of learning. He had mastered every skill the other sailors aboard the Queen had tried to teach him, and he had asked, and been granted permission by the captain, to read the books in the captain's library. He had devoured as many as he was able, at first seeing it only as a means to an end. If he could come out of this trip well read, after all, might he not fit into Elizabeth's society more readily? He now chided himself for such a silly notion. He was not put on this earth to win the respect of men and women he himself could not respect. He was not here to pander to the wealthy in the hopes that they would allow him into their society.

They should seek him out! They should, when in need of a blacksmith, seek his time and his talent. If he were to learn anything, then, he would study those things that truly intrigued him. He read books on shipbuilding and on navigation and on history. He learned what he could about swordmakingthe captain had a number of texts from other countries, and it fascinated Will at the differences in the development of each culture's craft, and Will saw more than one notion that set him to wishing he had a forge aboard the Queen.

He pondered the thought that had kept him from his bunk tonight. It was his dreams, or, rather, the lack of them. He had not dreamed in some time. The haunting visions of his youth of pirates and burning ships, and floating out at sea with no one to rescue him, had long ago given way to dreams of Barbossa cutting Elizabeth's throat instead of her hand as he watched, hidden with Jack and too late to help her. These had, in turn given way to dreams of being trapped in sinking boats, and fighting undead swordsmen, and finally, to the persistent recurring nightmare with his father dying on the bottom of the ocean as Will lifted the curse that had kept him alive.

The dreams had not come to him since he'd boarded the Queen, and whether because of the hard work, the salt sea air, the gentle rocking of the vessel in the gentle waves, or some other reason he had not yet guessed, the dreams were replaced. Dreamless sleep, restful and restoring, was all he got now. He smiled as the stars winked and twinkled down upon him. They had at last left him.

Why he found this disconcerting, he could not say, but he had of late dreaded that they were not gone, but merely hidden from him. Perhaps they would return, and perhaps they would worsen. It was enough to keep him from his bed tonight.

It was also enough to make him examine why he dreamed them. He was no coward, though he'd once thought of himself as one. After all, he'd lived most of his life in fear of telling the woman he loved how he felt. The knowledge that he'd hidden behind society's rules and all but abandoned any hope–save the slimmest–of being with her.

It wasn't until recently that he'd begun to realize that his life had not been the life of a coward. He had thought his decision to leave England in search of his father had been a cowardly abandonment of the only home he'd ever known, regardless of the fact that it was either leave, starve on the streets, or go to the local orphanage.

Now he knew it had been a courageous thing to set out on a ship on the vague hope his father was not only alive, but also somewhere along the route he was taking.

Then, he had somehow made a life for himself in Port Royal. He had apprenticed and learned a trade. He had fought Barbossa's men when they'd invaded the town, and he had trailed after them when he'd learned they'd taken Elizabeth, even eliciting the aid of a pirate and breaking more than one law while he was at it.

He had fought the undead. He had finally spoken to Elizabeth of his feelings for her, and he had fought to save a good man from the hangman's noose.

This recent adventure had certainly proven to be a test of courage as well, and though he was ashamed that he'd given up when he'd found himself alone watching the Black Pearl sail away, he had, in the end, pulled himself together.

So, if he were no coward, why was he afraid to go to sleep?

Nick dragged Turner's son out of the door of the cabin, careful to keep the knife at the lad's throat. He called out through the door. "Sparrow! Turner!"

He waited, listening as the commotion outside the door told him the Captain and his lackey were being called.

"What is it, Nick?" Jack asked through the door.

"How close are we to the island, Jack?" He tightened his hold on his hostage, though none could see it.

"We're almost there, Nick."

Nick fumed at the tone of Jack's voice. It told him the Captain was laughing at him, too, and he could still hear the sniggering of the others.

Reason left him and he tore open the door moving out into the sun, his eyes blinking from the bright light, but his hold on both his hostage and his knife still firm and certain.

"I want a guarantee, Jack. When we get there, I want all the treasure you've hoarded over the years, and I want this ship." Nick saw the way Jack was staring at his hostage and an evil grin spread across his face. "You won't get 'im back, Jack, until I get what I want."

Jack nodded, and Nick grinned at the odd look on the man's face. He'd gone pale and wide-eyed, and Nick was certain it had just occurred to the pirate that Nick was serious and that Nick was the better man. He laughed out loud so sweet was the taste of his long-awaited revenge.

Jack just nodded again, and, Nick noticed, when Elizabeth, also pale and wide-eyed opened her mouth to scream, "But Jack, that's not"

Jack stepped towards the young woman, and spoke over her words, obviously, Nick knew, realizing that Nick would not hesitate to kill her as well.

Jack, one hand firm on Elizabeth's arm, never took his eyes off Nick. He backed away slowly bringing Elizabeth with him. "We'll be there soon, Nick. Why not let the boy have a bit of water?"

Nick laughed again. "I'll just hold him here!"

Jack headed slowly back towards the upper deck. "I'll be up there, steering the Pearl if ye need me."

Nick nodded, fire in his eyes and the tip of his knife drawing a thin line of blood on his captive's throat.

Jack didn't say a word to Elizabeth. He continued to drag her away from Nick, his mind furiously working at the problem that had only now presented itself. That was not Will in Nick's hands. It wasn't Will. Two questions blazed in his mind: Who was it, and more importantly, where was Will? Unfortunately, the answer to the second question was painfully obvious. They'd left him behind.

Why his stomach flipped at the thought, and why his hand, as he released Elizabeth, shook, Jack refused to consider. The price of this trip, already unacceptable, had just doubled at the very least.

Elizabeth was yammering at him, and slowly Jack drew his attention back to her. "I know it's not Will, but Nick doesn't. The less he knows, the better for the lad he's holding."

Elizabeth nodded, but her eyes were enraged. "We have to go back! Anything could have happened to Will by now!"

"Tell me something I don't know, Love." Jack kept steering the ship on her intended course.

"Soturn around!"

Jack shook his head. "Can't. Nick won't allow it, and I need time to think."

"Think? Jack"

"Not another word, lass." He turned to William as the older man came nearer to him.

"Are you two sayin' that ain't my boy?" At Jack's reluctant nod, William could only clench his fists at his side. "So, 'e's led us across the sea with a strangerleavin' my boy aloneJack, we 'ave to do somethin'."

Jack stared at Nick, then, slowly a smile spread across his face. "Right."

Elizabeth stared at Jack. That look on his face could only mean that he had a plan. She didn't know whether to be happy or scared. Her mind focused on Will, alone and no doubt thinking they'd left him behind by choiceshe choked back the sorrow that threatened to spill out of her. "Jack, we can't just stand here"

"No, we can't at that, now can we?" He grinned at her. "I've got a plan"

Elizabeth's attention had been drawn away from Jack as she sensed movement off to the Captain's right. Looking out across the ocean, she saw a ship fast approaching them. "Jack"

He looked where she pointed and she could see he recognized it as well, if not better than she did. It was another pirate ship. They'd all been so occupied with Nick's little drama the other ship had gotten a drop on them.

He turned to William. "Tell the others to prepare for a fight."

William nodded and went off to do it as Jack turned back to Elizabeth. "Love, ye ought to hide below"

She bristled at the words. "What? I'm perfectly capable"

"Ye are, and I won't argue it, but that ship isn't likely to be full of gentleman. You and Anamaria"

"Are you sending her below as well?"

"Well, now"

"I thought not."

He sighed. "Elizabeth, please"

Her words surprised him. "I'll go, but I won't stay there if I think I can do more up here."

He nodded. "That's fine. I might be able to talk 'em down from attacking anyway. They'll want our cargoif I can convince 'em we 'aven't got much, they'll go."

"Would you believe a captain who told you he didn't have much?"

"Course not," He smiled again. "But then it wouldn't be as well told as I'm goin' to tell it."

__

The Bloody Mary sailed closer and closer to the ship in the distance. Her captain, though realizing he was about to attack a fellow pirate, justified the action by the poor take he and the crew had had lately and by the fact that if he didn't provide his men with some target, he'd be facing a murderous crew.

He wasted no time issuing the order to take the ship, and he watched in grim satisfaction as the nines began to fire. He saw several cannonballs hit their mark, and he could see many of the pirates aboard the Black Pearl begin to race about the deck_. The Black Pearl_recognizing the name gave the captain pause. She was supposedly a cursed vessel. Perhaps this wasn't the best of ideas

Still, there didn't seem to be anything particularly ominous about the ship or her crew. In his concern over the reputation of the Black Pearl, it never occurred to him that there could be another threat nearby.

Jack cursed his luck as he issued orders to his men. Avoiding being boarded was something every pirate ship knew how to do, but he wasn't usually so late in identifying the danger. Nick had occupied too much of his time recently and Jack cursed again.

How had he not seen that Nick did not hold young Will? How had he fallen for the ruseor was it a ruse? Did Nick believe this young man was William Turner, Jr.? There could be no other explanation. Why else would he allow the other man to be seen?

Will had to be safe. There was no reason to believe otherwise. That, of course, did not explain the frustration he felt, the anger at himself, that Will was not here, that he'd been left behind to face an uncertain future. How had the younger Turner survived all this time? They'd been at sea for months now. Could Will have managed

He stopped that line of thought. He had other concerns. For one, they were being boarded. For another, a crazy man still held a hostage aboard his ship. There was a lot to rectify before he could begin to worry about finding Will.

His crew were putting up a good fight, and even Nick seemed to get in the act once or twice. Jack could not look as Nick decapitated one hapless pirate, nor could he stomach the thoughts such a sight brought to mind. Had Nick fought with Will, killing him before realizing he could have used the younger man as a hostage, and then, in true Pirate fashion, taking advantage of the situation by finding a substitute? Could Will be dead all this time?

Anger surged through the Pirate Captain at such a thought. He had vowed to help Will find his father, and, now that William Senior was aboard the Pearl, getting to know Elizabeth Swann, he refused to entertain the thought that Will was dead. He shoved the thought far away from him. As he turned to deflect the blow from a sword aimed at his head. He would find Will. He would find him even if the young man had finally turned pirate and sailed the seven seas.

Elizabeth listened to the sound of fighting frustration forcing her fists clenched tightly. It was more than she could bear. Will was missing, his father alive, a crazy man held a faux Will hostage, and now they were being attacked! A pirate ship attacked by a pirate shipit was not to be believed!

She fingered the dagger she held. She would defend herself from any who tried to harm her. She had to find Will, after all. She had to survive this and find him.

Her determination gave her a ferocity that her fighting might not have had otherwise, and, when pirates made their way to her hiding place, she lashed out, injuring any who dared come near her.

With each slash, each hit on the flesh of an enemy, she thought of Will. Injured, dying, or perhaps whole and well, but believing he'd been abandonedimages tumbled through her mind. She wished only to see Will again, to be held by him again. How could she face the future otherwise?

All such thoughts were driven from her mind by the immediate need to survive. She concentrated on each strike of her blade. She scrambled out of the way of blows meant to disarm her–or worse. She made her way slowly toward the stairs, knowing that above deck she had a much better chance to survive, if only because she would be less outnumbered.

She dodged under one man's extended sword arm, and batted away the sword of the man behind him with a quick slash of the dagger she held. Then she raced toward the door hoping there wouldn't be someone standing in her way when she finally reemerged above deck.

She came up short as she tried not to plow into Anamaria who was holding off three men with a dagger and a sword. Elizabeth stood ready to help her, and Anamaria accepted her help. The women fought side by side as the smoke from cannon fire spread thickly over both ships.

Jack fought like a pirate possessed. He was defending his ship, to be sure, his _Pearl_, but this battle was so much more than that. Nick was past insanity now, Jack knew. The other man had taken to shooting anyone who came near the Captain's Quarters whether it be one of Jack's crew or one of the invaders. Nick laughed maniacally. What little he said coherently, convinced Jack that there was little left of the man he and William Turner senior had known.

He didn't waste time wondering what had happened or how it had happened or if there was something he could have done about it. He had the rest of his life to torture himself with those thoughts. What most concerned him now was how to disarm and subdue Nick so he could figure out what had happened to Will. He swung his blade in a high arc, and, with a ferocious yell, attacked a pirate who seemed to be getting the best of William.

Once the man was down, William gave him a nod of thanks. Jack returned it, and as he looked away, he saw a sight that chilled his blood. There was another pirate ship approaching. It was under full sail and making incredible time. Light, maneuverable, and with a deck seemingly surging with pirates.

Was that ship coming to aid the _Black Pearl_ or the _Bloody Mary? _ It could of course be a ship coming for its own purposes. Hover nearby as two ships fought it out, then attack the winner. One crew fresh, rested and ready to fight, and the other tired, bloody and barely standingit was easy to guess which would win.

He looked heavenward, but even Jack Sparrow dared not expect help from that source. He fought on, hoping only that there'd be something of him left to find out what had happened to Will.

Will Turner had enjoyed his time aboard the Queen of Spades, but as the days wore on he began to realize he was heading for a moment of truth, and he had not a clue how he would react. His work aboard ship was hard, but satisfying, much like his work as a blacksmith. He knew, however, that he couldn't keep kidding himself. At some point a pirate ship would have to engage in the act of piracy. These men who seemed hard-working, dedicated, andwould someday, perhaps soon, attack a passing ship, and steal all it carried, quite possibly killing crew and passengers alike.

Could he do such a thing?

He didn't turn away from the question at once like he once had. He knew now that life was not so black and white, so cut and dried, as once he'd thought it was. There were a lot of things to consider, and though it had taken him a long time to realize it, and a longer time to admit it, a man could be both a good man and a pirate.

What he wondered now was could a man be a good man and a good pirate.

He finished coiling the spare ropes when the signal sounded. "Ship, ho!"

A ship had been spotted, and Will, just like the others, raced to see where it was and what it was doing. The cry changed to 'ships, ho' just as Will spotted the two pirate ships. One was being boarded and the other was putting up a good fight. He squinted. The shape of one of those ships was very familiar. It wasthe _Black Pearl!_

Will's heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. He had found it! Almost accidentally, but he had found it! With any luck at all, Elizabeth was aboardElizabeth! She could be dead, or dying. He couldn't tell how long the Pearl had been under attack, but it did not take long to be run through or shot.

He saw Trilby running past him, and reached out to grab the man by the arm. "What are the orders?" Will asked, his voice trembling at the thought that they'd be ordered to attack the Pearl.

"Captain says 'e ain't decided yet."

Will nodded and let Trilby go. He would plead with the Captain to rescue the Pearl.

It was an easy enough plan, but he didn't really know what to say. He wanted nothing more than to swim the chasm that separated him from Elizabeth, but he owed a loyalty to the crew of the Queen as well, didn't he? Even if he managed to convince the Captain to help Jack and the others, Will knew he would not be able to join Elizabeth. He'd joined the crew here. There was a bond that he had to honora promise to serve this ship and this crewa debt to Trilby if to no one else, because it was he who had persuaded the captain to take him on.

Without Trilby, he might never have seriously considered becoming a pirate. It wasn't an idea that came naturally to him, yet it had seemed the answer to his dilemma at the time. Could he truly embrace all that this choice entailed?

He stared at the Black Pearl as the Queen approached it. He didn't have long to decide.

Jack had managed to defeat several attackers, but when he whirled around to face a threat he'd sensed at his back, he came face to face with Nick. He swallowed, but his sword did not waver. "We don't need to do this, mate."

Nick scoffed. "We do. I'm takin' whatever's yours and whatever's Bill's. Startin' wi' yer life!"

With those words he leaped forward trying to plunge his sword to the hilt into Jack's chest. Jack, taking a step back, parried wildly, throwing Nick to the side.

Jack thought furiously, but there seemed to be little recourse. He had to fight his old friend. His crew fought fiercely, but victory seemed no nearer. Jack kept his attention on Nick. It would do him little good to be distracted by the unwanted sight of one of the others being run through.

He thought he heard the sound of Anamaria's voice, but he blocked that from his mind as well. Everything within him told him to find her, to fight by her side, but he wasn't able now, and she really didn't need his protection. Of course, that didn't stop him from wanting to offer it. He only hoped that there was a way out of this for both of them. He wanted her to knowhe had to tell her

Nick's blow nearly took his head as cleanly as a hatchet would have, and only Jack's instincts had kept him alive.

Jack, furious at nearly being caught like that, threw himself into the battle. He smelled smoke, but didn't allow it to distract him. He heard a cry of surprise, pain, or both, and refused to allow himself to wonder whose voice it had been.

He parried Nick's next blow and then went on the offensive. Nick was backing away, and Jack took advantage. He continued to move forward, but Nick, with the strength of the insane, kicked and pulled Jack's leg out from under him. Crumbling to the deck, Jack managed to keep his blade up, but he was unable to shrug off Nick's next attack. He rolled to his left, hoping to buy enough time to climb to his feet, but it didn't work. Nick was there. He rolled back to his right, but again, Nick cut him off. Nick's blade sliced through his arm then, and blood flowed freely from the wound. He ignored the pain and the sticky wetness of the blood. The smell was one thing he did not have to escape, for the scent of blood wafted off his decks as his own crew and the other pirates left bloody corpses behind.

It was as he raised his blade, his arm dripping crimson stains upon the deck and seeming to take his capacity for clear thought with it, that Jack realized he could not win this fight.

Nick stepped forward a menacing grimace on his face and with one swift blow, disarmed Jack Sparrow. He laughed maniacally for a moment. "That'll be the end of that, _Captain_ Sparrow!"

Jack's eyes fastened on Nick's, but he did not cower, nor fall back, nor try to crawl away. Instead, with an overwhelming calm perhaps brought on by the loss of blood and perhaps brought on by the realization that he'd certainly cheated death more times in the past than to begrudge losing this final battle, Jack Sparrow prepared for the killing blow.

To Be Continued


	20. part 20

Author's Note: I do believe this tale is winding down. Another chapter or so should tie up my loose ends. I want to thank all of you for being so patient with me as I struggled to finish these last few chapters. I regret the long waits between chapters, but you can't force your muse to do as you please. Anywayhere's chapter 20, and chapter 21 will be coming soon.

A Pirate's Life and Death part 20

By Ecri

Elizabeth was breathing heavily as she fought by Anamaria's side. "Stay with me!" Anamaria called out to her, and Elizabeth nodded.

"You, too!" She demanded this knowing her friend and she were considered easy targets from the invading pirates. It was when, in glancing around for further threat or target that Elizabeth caught sight of another ship.

This couldn't be good. She gestured to the sight so that Anamaria would see it. The woman nodded, but seemed to spare not another thought for the newcomer.

"What's it mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"That it must be open season on _The Black Pearl_!" Anamaria shouted back.

Elizabeth nodded. It certainly felt like that. She slashed her sword at another marauder who seemed intent on hurting her, then she kicked him where it would do her the most good and him the least.

Taking her cue from Anamaria, she tried not to pay attention to the new ship. The thought of another crew to fight was more than she could bear at any rate. Better to delude herself into thinking things were improving. In refusing to think about the ship, she did however, find her thoughts returning to Will Turner.

"Where are you, Will?" She whispered the words, though she was sure he must be back on that island, where she and Jack and William had left him. She shook her head. How could she have done that? How could she not have made certain that it was Will aboard? She shook the thought off and moved down the deck with Anamaria looking for more pirates to fight.

Jack's eyes fastened on Nick's, but he did not cower, nor fall back, nor try to crawl away. Instead, with an overwhelming calm perhaps brought on by the loss of blood and perhaps brought on by the realization that he'd certainly cheated death more times in the past than to begrudge losing this final battle, Jack Sparrow prepared for the killing blow.

A blur of motion came at them from starboard and Jack found himself shoves roughly aside as the blur released a rope and stood, sword at the ready, shielding Jack from Nick's blade.

"Leave him alone."

Jack struggled backward trying to get his feet beneath him once more, and when he finally did, he stared at the boy, no, the young man, who for the second time in his life, was placing himself between Jack Sparrow and certain death.

"Will."

"Jack." Will acknowledged without taking his eyes from his opponent. "You and I have met before."

Will's words were a surprise to Jack, but Nick seemed to be apoplectic.

"You! But you're" Nick glanced back to where he'd left his hostage, memory resurfacing to turn his recent reality into lies.

Jack saw it all on Nick's face.

Will took a menacing step closer to Nick. "You're the reason they left me behind, aren't you?"

Nick shrugged off whatever emotions had held him still and lunged at Will. Not for the first time, Jack was glad that Will had found the skills of swordsmanship to be a fair substitution for the more amorous pass times he might have engaged in.

Will was more of a match for the older man, and his grasp or reality gave him an edge that Nick could never possess. Lunges, parries, footwork, all blended into a macabre dance as Will proved his mettle again and again.

Jack, though his arm bled spuriously, found his sword and stood by Will's side. He could still hear the clatter and clang of the battle behind him, but it was this one that held him. He would not back down. With Will at his side, he would face Nick and bring the other man down.

He never had the chance. Nick, seeing Jack standing with his blade, let out a howl of rage and raised his own weapon. Jack saw that he'd never get his sword up in time. Prepared once more to die, he was more and more surprised that he'd continued to breathe.

A flurry of motion had distracted him, but when Will, who'd stepped forward at that last moment, stepped back to Jack's side, Nick slid gracelessly to the deck, a gaping wound in his chest. Jack glanced at Will's sword, still clutched tightly in the younger man's grip, and saw it dripping with dark blood.

His eyes narrowed as he moved his gaze upward to take in how this development affected his young friend. Determination mingled with regret, but, to Jack's relief, it was the determination that held firm. No man could kill without regret, but Jack saw at once that Will's would not overwhelm him.

The boy had grown into a man, and he'd done it alone.

William Turner, Sr. plunged his own sword deep into the gut of the man who'd tried to sneak up behind Elizabeth. Drawing the blade free, he ignored the now limp body that fell to the deck. He glanced around but saw no immediate threat. As a matter of fact, he saw few people standing.

He glanced to where he'd last seen Jack and saw his old friend standing with a pirate he couldn't recognize. _Must be from the new shipbut why ain't he fightin'?_ William wondered.

He glanced around the ship and saw other unfamiliar pirates helping the crew of the Pearl to dispose of the marauders. Helping? He couldn't quite come to terms with that. What could it mean?

He glanced to Anamaria. "What's goin' on, girl?"

"Name's not 'girl'," Anamaria declared.

William smiled broadly. The woman was right. "All right then, what's goin' on, Anamaria?"

She returned the smile. "Couldn't tell ya, but I think it must have somethin' to do with him." She pointed toward where Jack was still speaking to that strange pirate. William decided it would be best if he wandered up there and got the story straight from the horse's mouth.

Spinning around, Jack saw not one but two ships anchored nearby, and the assaulting pirates were being assaulted by his own crew and the newcomers.

He took a closer look at the newest ship in the threesome and saw the name. "_The Queen of"_

He broke off as he saw Anamaria attacking two men twice her size at the same time. He was about to race to her side to aid her, when she disarmed one and mortally wounded the other. He shook his head in admiration. Anamaria never did need anybody's protection. For that matter, neither did Elizabeth.

She saw the daughter of the Governor of Port Royal end two pirates tumbling into the sea. It was enough to set him laughing. He looked around the deck and saw that the fighting seemed over, and the clean up was beginning.

Jack turned back to Will. "We've got some catchin' up to do, mate."

Will smiled and nodded. "We do." His gaze moved around the deck of the Pearl, and Jack saw the concern plainly.

"She's aboard, Will. Probably run a man through by now."

Will nodded, but it wasn't until he saw Elizabeth that he believed it.

Jack gestured in her direction. "Go on, then." He watched Will race to Elizabeth's side and sweep her up in his embrace. "Somethin's different about 'im." He whispered to himself. He turned then and saw Nick, the gaping wound in his heart had effectively drained the man of blood which now stained the deck of the Pearl.

Saddened beyond words, Jack knelt by his one time friend. "Ah, Nick. It shouldn't 'ave 'appened." He reached out a hand toward his friend but stopped himself before he touched the inanimate flesh.

He would have to take care of a burial at sea, and the decks would have to be scrubbed if not outright replaced. He stood again and took a look around only then noticing that William, Bootstrap Bill, had appeared by his side. He looked sorrowfully down at Nick. "It weren't right, Jack. It coulda been either of us."

Jack nodded. "It could have."

The two stared at the lifeless body for another few moments, memories and regrets playing through each of their minds. Finally Jack turned away draping an arm over William's shoulder. "But that's all in the past. It's the future we should worry about."

"What future is that?"

Jack grinned and gestured to Will and Elizabeth who were talking animatedly and clutching each other's hands as they did. "That future, William. That's your son. Will Turner."

William stared at his son, his eyes wide.

Will had rarely felt such joy in his life, but whenever he had, Elizabeth had been at his side. "I feared the worst," he admitted.

"I did, too. Oh, Will, we thought you were aboard! We thought he had taken you! We never would have left you behind"

"I know that." He was about to say more, but Jack was there with another man by his side.

"Will Turner, this is your father. William, this is your lad." Jack stepped aside, and Elizabeth did as well, giving the Turner's a moment.

Will looked at the older man and he recognized something of himself in the features. He pictured his mother with this stranger, and was amazed at how easy that was to do.

"You're mymy father." Will said the words but it was still difficult to believe. "I thought I'd killed you."

William, tears in his eyes, moved closer to the lad and embraced him. "So I've been told. Ye never did, Will. I'm safe and alive my lad, and this is all the treasure I ever dreamed ofif only I'd have seen that sooner!"

Will pulled back slightly from the embrace. He looked William in the eye. "That's in the past. We have timeto get to know each other" he broke off suddenly embarrassed at the assumptions he'd just made.

To his relief, William hugged him more fiercely.

Captain Hamilton watched his men mop up the last bit of resistance from the pirate crew that had boarded the Pearl. Sent on their way with their proverbial tails between their proverbial legs, the others would have to try again some other day, and no doubt they would.

Seeing Captain Sparrow heading his way, Hamilton turned to face the man. "Sorry to have boarded without permission. Rescues are hard on protocol."

Jack smiled. "They are at that. Your lot seem to have done a good job."

Hamilton smiled. "Yes, they are an efficient group. Comes from believing in what they do. Young Will, there, for example, embraced the life well enough. It wasn't until he was faced with the act of piracy that he realized there was more to it than being a good sailor."

Jack cleared his throat and took one, firm, menacing step toward Hamilton. "How does that work exactly, you being cursed and all? Is he free to go, or do I have to fight you for him?"

Hamilton saw the look in Sparrow's eye. "Ah, you've recognized the name of my ship, have you?"

At Jack's nod, Hamilton sighed. "Then you know what we're after."

Jack nodded. "I'm tellin' ye now" He leaned in closer to the other Captain and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Ye can't 'ave 'im."

Hamilton's eyes widened in surprise. "We just saved your ship and your life, Captain Sparrow. I would think you'd show a bit more gratitude."

Sparrow grinned, his gold teeth glinting in the sun. "Ye can think what ye like. Will saved my life. Will did it. Not you. Face it. Will Turner is not goin' with ye."

Hamilton dropped all pretence of propriety and etiquette. "He hasn't got a choice. He's joined my crew voluntarily."

"I'm sure 'e did, but did 'e know what that entailed?" Jack watched Hamilton and when the man didn't answer right away, Jack nodded. "Ah. I thought not." He stood his ground and glared at the other captain. "I know a bit about this curse on your ship. Ye can't 'arm those ye've only just 'elped. I don't know what it would do to you, but I love surprise endings."

Hamilton seemed to pale a bit at that remark. "Surely you see that he's signed on to my ship. Curse or no curse, there is a certain obligation in that."

"Aye, but 'e's a _pirate_! Ye can't expect a pirate to keep 'is word."

"Men have been flogged for less."

"True enough, true enough." Jack pondered that for a moment. "Tell me, 'ow exactly did ye meet Will?"

"Trilby recognized him. The ship was going down in a hurricane and young Mr. Turner pulled Mr. Trilby to safety."

"Your ship can't go down." He cast a curious glance at the _Queen_. "At least, not permanently."

"No, it can't."

Jack nodded. "So Young Mr. Turner dives into a storm ravaged sea to save a man's life when his ship is going downbut the man in question is already dead and the ship cannot sinkhave I got that right?"

"Perfectly."

"You see nothing wrong with that?"

"Not at all."

Jack sighed. "You know, with all the undead pirates sailing the Caribbean, it's amazing there's room for any of us live ones out here."

Hamilton did not reply, but Jack hadn't really expected him to.

Jack watched the man pondering the nature of a man who willingly served a ship that was nothing more than a trap for the good-hearted. "Look, Will's not goin' with you."

Hamilton carefully rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "He most assuredly is."

"We can go all night playin' is/isn't and not get anywhere, mate. I'll not let ye 'ave 'im."

William Turner shook his head sadly at the descriptions his son had just given him of his life since the death of his mother. "If I'd 'ave known how bad it would be for ye, I'd never 'ave left you alone. What put it in yer head to come and find me?"

Will shrugged. "I'm not sure. I suppose it was always in the back of my mind that once I was old enough I'd try to find you, get to know you." He turned his gaze back out on the water. Sometimes it was easier to talk this way. He could imagine his mother's face out there on the waves, and draw strength from the fact that she'd loved this man, this pirate.

"I searched for ye, too. I went to England, but you must have left long before I got there. I wanted to find ye lad." He sighed as only a man who's seen his entire life pass before his eyes and has found more than a few regrets can sigh. "I wanted to pass along something to ye, Will."

Will smiled. "I know." Carefully, he drew out the box Jack had given him that he'd only just retrieved from Elizabeth. "I've got it."

William's eyes lit up. "That's it! I left that wi' ol' Joe! Where'd ye find it?"

"With Joe. Jack picked it up. He gave it to me, but I never had the time to open it."

William stared at the box, but looked away. "Well, ye should open it before you thank me. It's not very valuable."

Will opened the box. Inside there was paper. Carefully, almost reverently, he took the slips of various sizes out of the velvet lined box. What he saw took his breath away. Pencil drawings, careful sketches of Will and his motherof his mother and his fatherof him slightly older "You drew these." Will realized after a moment.

His father nodded. "I did. I wanted something to remember ye and ye're mother by, and while I was out sailin' and plunderin' I drew those from memory. There's a lot of gaps in the times when I did see you, but I drew what I could."

Will nodded, a tear in one eye.

"Oh, there's one other thing." William patted down his pockets and finally revealed a ring. "I've chased Nick all 'round the world for this." He placed it in Will's hand.

It was a small ring of exquisite design.

"I wanted to give it to yer mother. I never could afford a proper weddin' ring, so one day, I took my share of the money the Pearl had made, and I bought that for 'er. I never did find 'er, and from what ye tell me, she must have died about the time I was havin' it made." He looked at the ring, his emotions obvious. "Oh, but I loved yer mother."

Will smiled. That was all he'd ever wanted to know. "I'm sure she would have loved it."

"Ye give it to yer Elizabeth now."

Will shook his head. "I couldn't."

"It's not plunder, boy, though I did buy it with ill-gotten gains. It's a good ring. Closest we've got to an heirloom." He laughed and Will joined in with him.

Will looked again at the ring. It was beautiful. With a ring like this, he could ask Elizabeth to marry him. He'd have something of his own, something that had belonged to his father, that would have belonged to his mother, to offer her. An heirloom, his father had called it. He liked the sound of that.

Jack's standoff with Hamilton hadn't gone unnoticed. As Jack argued quietly with the Captain of the Queen, he realized they were drawing a crowd. One by one, the entire crew had come to stand by him, which would have pleased him except that Hamilton's crew had come to stand beside him.

This could not end well, Jack was sure.

It was Will's and William's arrival that finally brought things to a head.

"Well," said Hamilton, "here's the boy now. Why don't we ask him."

Jack's eyes didn't move from Hamilton's, but just as Will opened his mouth to speak, Jack spoke louder. "It's not a negotiationwe're not under the rules of parlay or anything. Will's stayin' put."

"Jack?" Will asked, and Jack could hear the concern in his voice.

"It's nothing ye need to worry about, Will."

"No, of course it isn't." Hamilton agreed. "He's coming aboard the Queen. If for no other reason then to work off the debt."

"Debt?" Will and Jack spoke at the same time.

Hamilton nodded, and a look of infinite sorrow crossed his face. "You've killed a man here today, Will." He gestured to Nick's prone body. "He's quite dead."

"I was saving Jack."

Hamilton's eyes narrowed and he took on a haughty tone. "Oh, and that justifies what you did? You ended a life. What makes Jack more worthy to live than that gentleman?"

William Senior drew himself up and took a step to stand by Jack's side. "Nick weren't no gentleman."

Hamilton appeared amused. "No, I suppose he wasn't. Still, Young Mr. Turner has taken a life. In the eyes of Heaven, that's surely a crime to be punished."

Will, sounding defeated, spoke quietly. "He's right, Jack."

Elizabeth took firm hold of Will's arm. "You can't mean that! He held that poor man hostage, led us to believe you were illhe wouldn't have hesitated to kill any one of us. He was insane."

Will nodded and appeared to taking it all to heart. He never noticed Trilby staring at him as though willing him to understand something that was just within his reach, something that would change his life.

Jack noticed, however, and, still unsure what was happening, grew angry at the sheer level of manipulation taking place on his ship. He turned on Will. "I saw ye kill 'im, Will. Ye understood at the time the difference between murder and self-defense. Ye knew the danger of absolutes. Killing is always a last resort. The trick is knowing when it's the only resort left to ye."

Will nodded but looked unconvinced.

Hamilton called to his men. "Get back to the ship." He looked at Will standing there, flanked by his friends, his family. "You, too, Will. You're place is now on the _Queen_."

To be continued


	21. Part 21!

Note: This concludes this fanfiction. This turned out much longer than I'd ever suspected, and took off in directions I never would have imagines when I wrote the first chapter. I want to thank all of you who have read along with me and who have reviewed. Your opinions matter, and your insights meant a great deal to me.

This chapter was probably the hardest to write because in the back of my mind I wondered if I was giving you, the readers, what you wanted. Regardless, there are a great many threads here that I'd always intended to keep. William Turner for instance, and Will's dreams to name two.

Thanks again for reading. I hope to post more POTC fanfictions as soon as the plot bunnies hit.

On to the last part!

A Pirate's Life and Death part 21

By Ecri

Jack stared at Hamilton. "I told ye. Will stays here."

"Jack!" Will raised a hand as though wanting to hold Jack back, but Elizabeth already had a hold of Will's arm.

"Will! Let him help you!" She was pleading with him.

Jack ignored the pair of them. He had an undead Pirate Captain to worry about. As always.

"There must be a way to convince ye to leave 'im be."

Hamilton shook his head. "I don't make up the rules. Trilby is our newest recruit. A good one he is, too! You can ask him. This is a fine ship to serve." Hamilton's gaze wandered fondly over the crew of his ship as they forced the pirates to leave the Pearl and return to their own vessel. "We're not really cursed as you think of it, Captain Sparrow. We're blessed."

"It's a matter of opinion I expect." Jack replied. "You're not free. To me, that's a curse."

Hamilton smiled, and Jack thought that was something he did far too often for a cursed man.

"The perspective one gains after an eternity at sea can change the harshest reality into the pleasantest of dreams."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Each to his own? Beauty is in the eye of the beholdersomething like that."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Will stays 'ere."

"No. I'm afraid not. I have a signed contract. Mr. Turner will feel most compelled to come with me when I call him." He turned to Will. "It's not as bad as all that. The ship is a blessed place. We do good things for people. Trilby had us test you because he wanted to help youand so we did. We took you to the Pearl. You wanted to save the Pearl from the pirates, and so we did. Now, you've used the Queen to your own purpose, and you signed the standard contract when you boarded. You belong to the Queen now until such time as the Ship herself is prepared to release you."

Will looked confused. "I thought I was just joining the crew. What do you mean 'until the ship herself releases me'?"

Hamilton stepped closer to Will, or tried to. The tip of Jack's sword prevented him from getting too close. "The Ship is willing to do for others"

"You mean you are." Jack insisted.

"Trilby wanted to help you, so we found you. You wanted to help Jack, so we found Jack. It's quite simple."

"Ahh! But Trilby was dead when ye got 'im" He stopped and looked at Trilby. "Weren't ye?"

Trilby nodded. "Oh, aye. I died a tragic deatha life cut short" Hamilton glared at him, and Trilby cleared his throat. "Erthat is, I drowned in a storm."

"Will's not dead. Ye can't 'ave 'im." Jack didn't know how to put it more emphatically.

"We can't stay, and he's signed a contract" He inhaled and when he spoke, the voice had the doom of the ages in it. "Will Turner"

Will heard his name and found himself unable to remain where he was. Compelled, he walked toward Hamilton and the Crew of the Queen. He knew those men, had worked beside those men, yet now, he was terrified. He refused to call out for help. He had gotten himself into this, and he would get himself out again.

It was in that last moment, as he tried to devise a plan, that something hit him, hard. He fell to the deck and struggled to sit up. When he did, he saw his father reach forward and take Hamilton's outstretched hand.

"NO!" He called, but it was too late. The bargain was sealed.

Hamilton grinned at William Turner. "Welcome aboard. You'll be a welcome addition to our crew, Mr. Turner."

"No, you can't!" Will cried. "He's my fatheryou can't."

Hamilton regarded Will sadly. "He's answered a call. I cannot interfere."

"But it wasn't his obligation! It was mine." Will lunged toward his father, but Jack caught him easily.

"Ye can't, Will. It was his choice."

"No!" Will's eyes stayed on his father.

William Turner stepped nearer to his son, but not near enough to touch him. "Son, WillI'm all right. It's for the best!"

"I've just found you! I can't lose you again."

"Ye can't lose me, Will. I've had ye on my mind all yer life. I'm just glad we had a chance to meet."

"No!" Will turned on Jack. "Do something!"

"Like what?"

"II don't know! There must be a way"

Elizabeth stepped forward. "Can you really take a man who never signed to serve you?"

Hamilton grinned. "I have the signature of a Mr. William Turner. I have a Mr. William Turner. It all balances out in the end."

Anamaria called to Hamilton. "Ye say ye helped Will because Mr. Trilby wanted it ta happen. Is that so?"

Hamilton nodded. "Most assuredly."

Elizabeth had caught on to Anamaria's train of thought. "If your crew decided who you help, and helping Will was Trilby's idea, then helping Will to help Jack was all part of helping Trilby!"

Jack stared at her. "Ye been in the sun too long, Lass."

"Jack! I'm serious."

"Ye're talkin' gibberish!"

"No she's not. It's perfectly clear." Anamaria stepped closer, her sword in hand. "I'd say she hit the nail on the head."

"Or she 'it 'er 'ead!" Trilby shouted.

Hamilton seemed deep in consideration, but he wasn't ready to speak yet.

Will called to his father once more. "You can't give up your life for me! We've only just"

"I've got every right, lad." William interrupted. "Ye've 'ad a life wi'out me. Ye've brought yourself up better than I could 'ave." He walked over to his son and grabbed him by the shoulders looking him straight in the eyes. "I've got meself a chance to save your life, and in the bargain, I've saved me own. I'll not 'ave a pirate's death. I'll not die run through wi' a sword while takin' away somethin' precious from someone else, and I'll not 'ave ye die under a curse from a pirate ship."

"But"

"No, Will! Ye got to accept it!"

"I don't! I can't!"

"Ye 'aven't a choice, son. It's my decision." He stepped back to Hamilton and the crew, and, in the wink of an eye, they all vanished.

Will stared at the space his father had occupied trying in vain to understand what had happened. What he had longed to have for so long had slipped through his fingers. He knew Elizabeth was at his side gazing at him in concern. In less than a moment, he swept her into his embrace and held on as though she might disappear as well.

He heard Jack trying to speak to him, but he did not comprehend the words. Whatever words they were, they could not erase the cold hard truth. Once again, Will Turner had to deal with the fact that he had killed his father. Only this time, he knew that it was true.

He allowed Elizabeth to lead him back to his bunk. The emotional turmoil, the hard work of a sailor, and killing not only Nick, but his father had left Will exhausted. Almost unable to stand, he let Elizabeth fuss, though he really didn't know what was happening. He dozed almost immediately.

The Queen of Diamonds_ was tossed from wave to wave as the sea seemed angered enough to shatter it into splinters. The crew held desperately to rope and rail and to each other, but many were swept overboard. Some, struck by flying debris, fell to the deck, dead on the instant. Others, fighting the elements and injury, bled to death even as they fought to steady _the Queen._ As the ever darkening sky was split by lightning, the faces of the crew were revealed._

Will sat up soaked in sweat. He had seen the faces of the crew of the Queen as they had appeared in his dream. Each one was the same. Each wore the face of William Turner, Senior.

With Nick dead, Jack saw little reason to keep heading in the direction the man had intended. He'd said so and refused to listen to reason. Elizabeth couldn't understand why he and William were so against returning to a spot where they'd hidden a treasure.

"It's not a place you'd want to visit." Jack admitted, watching as several of his crew struggled to remove Nick's blood from the decking.

"Why not? Real pirate treasure"

"Didn't you get enough of that when Barbossa intended to kill you?"

She shook her head. "That's not it. I just thought that Will might benefit. He's a good man"

"And you want to marry a good man who happens to have a king's ransom in gold and jewels."

Indignation made Elizabeth's face red. "How dare you suggest such a thing? I'm thinking of him. He's always feeling inferior"

"There's no treasure, love. Not in the traditional sense."

"Then in what sense is there a treasure?"

"In the non-traditional sense."

"Jack Sparrow"

"That's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow"

Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself. "I think that Will has a right"

"Aye, he does. One day, I will tackle that one. For right now, let the lad enjoy meeting his dad."

Elizabeth nodded. "He deserves that much. They both do."

"I though you called William every name in the book and a few others besides."

Elizabeth smiled. "I suppose I did, but I had reason then."

"And now?"

"Now, I suppose I think he's Will's father, and I should get to know him as well. After all, Jack, a man can be both a good man and a pirate."

Jack had seen a lot in his long years at sea, but the business with the crew of the _Queen_ troubled him. They'd moved on, sure enough, and left William and Will with Jack, but what did it all mean? Who had set the test? He tried to remember how _the Queen_ had come to be cursed, but he couldn't recall any of the details.

The vanishing was hard to explain, as well, though Jack tried. In the end, he supposed he had to accept it. There was little option.

Elizabeth stood in the bow of the ship straining her eyes to see the details long before it was possible. They'd spotted Port Royal some time ago, but Elizabeth's eyes searched for proof that her home was still in tact. She'd been gone so long with the worry over her father's fate sublimated by the more immediate concerns of survival, and of Will.

Will had gone from despair over his father's fate to joy over being with Elizabeth so often on the voyage that Elizabeth had a hard time keeping track from moment to moment where he was.

The return voyage had given her time to reflect on what might have happened to her father. No matter how many times Will told her not to worry unnecessarily, she could not shake her fear that her father had been left for dead, that the entire town no longer existed

Now, approaching the port, Elizabeth could finally see parts of the town. There were differences. There was somethingsome building missing off to the rightthe milliners? There were more ships and more piers.

She could see the Governor's mansion, and parts of that seemed different as well. Altered perhaps by fireshe couldn't say for certain.

__

The Black Pearl dropped anchor. Elizabeth asked Jack if her were going ashore.

"No, Elizabeth. I quite like my head attached to my shoulders and my neck the length it is now. I see no need to irritate Commodore Norrington."

"We don't know he's still here." She pointed out the obvious.

"No, nor do we know he's not. I'm takin' risk enough sittin' in his bay. You go on."

Elizabeth turned to Will expectantly. Will, in turn, said his thanks to Jack. "You've come through for me quite a few times, Jack. How can I repay you?"

"I'd say ye did that, mate, when ye kept Nick from takin' my life."

Will nodded and offered his hand. "You're a good man, Jack."

"And a better pirate!" Jack laughed.

Stepping onto the pier, Elizabeth drank in the sights, smells, and sounds of home. As they passed the Blacksmith's shop, Elizabeth stared at it–or rather at the spot where it had stood–in surprise.

"It's gone." Will whispered. Elizabeth knew that tone. "Perhaps, we can rebuild it. Perhaps something has happened to Mr. Brown, and you can be the town's new blacksmith"

Will swallowed his hurt, and Elizabeth was sure he'd seen his dreams fall down around his ears. He refused to be glum about it, however, and insisted they move on to the Governor's Mansion.

In moments people began to recognize them, and Elizabeth saw people running for the mansion. She knew word would reach her father–if he were still there–before she did.

Before they'd crossed half the distance, a carriage came careening down the street and pulled to a rather abrupt stop in front of the trio. The door burst open and her father leaped out rushing to embrace her.

"Father!"

"Elizabeth!"

The two talked at the same time, laughing over their inability to hear each other or answer each other's questions. Their laughter grew, and Elizabeth heard Will join in, and saw the smiling faces of Port Royal's citizenry as they watched the happy reunion.

Governor Swann seemed taken aback by Will's presence at his daughter's side, but was so overjoyed that he at least gave the appearance of having accepted it. They were walking back to the mansion, Elizabeth enjoying seeing everything the way it was an comparing it to her memory.

Will turned to Elizabeth suddenly. "I'd like to wait for a perfect moment, Elizabeth, but I'm afraid that if I wait too longI won't ever ask."

"Ask what?"

"Elizabeth, will you marry me?"

Elizabeth smiled broadly. "I thought you'd never get around to asking."

"Are you going to get around to answering?"

She smiled. "Yes, I am. Yes, I will."

They kissed, then, pulling back slightly, Will took Elizabeth's hand and slipped his father's ring onto it.

Jack Sparrow had waited with _the Pearl_ near to Port Royal. He'd had a feeling it wasn't quite time to leave. Seeing the _Queen of Diamonds_ appear suddenly, he was glad he had. He slipped off the _Pearl_ and followed a small boat that had just departed _the Queen_.

Whatever Hamilton was planning, Jack wasn't going to sit back and let it happen. He watched through a telescope as the small boat made it to the Port Royal dock, and he followed. His eyes remained on Hamilton and he could only hope that he would make it to Will's side before the undead Pirate Captain. Blessed or cursed, the man wasn't going to take Will away.

He had intended to remain hidden, to follow Hamilton in the shadows and then leap out and take the man by surprise, all, hopefully, without having to let Will know what had happened. He'd only gone a few feet when Hamilton whirled around and called to him.

"I know you're there, Jack Sparrow."

Jack showed himself. "No point in hiding then."

Will Turner was surprised when Elizabeth's father took her suggestion that Will take over the abandoned smithy. He seemed much more enthusiastic about it than Will ever might have imagined. It was only later that he'd learned that Port Royal had been without a smith since the attack that had taken Will and Elizabeth from home. Mr. Brown had been killed in the raid and the smithy burned.

Will stared at the charred remains of what had once been the shop where he'd spent most of his waking hours. Governor Swann had intimated that the town's own coffers might be opened to help pay for what repairs Will deemed necessary. Apparently, public outcry and private need–there was no one to forge swords for the officers under Norrington's command–had made the man more tolerant. If Port Royal was that desperate for someone who could work metal, then perhaps the social status of a blacksmith–and of anyone who brought a blacksmith to town–would be somewhat higher than it might have been under other circumstances.

That was what Elizabeth believed at any rate, and Will could find no reason to discourage her. If she were right, things would improve for him. If she were wrong, they would learn that soon enough. He would not spend a moment wondering about it.

As he sorted through the debris scattered about the shop, he heard something behind him. Expecting Elizabeth or perhaps Governor Swann come to see for himself what was required to open the shop, Will was not in the least prepared for the sight that met his eyes.

"Jack?" Puzzled, Will took barely a step toward his friend, when jack moved, or rather, was shoves aside. Only then did Will see that Jack was not alone. He reached for his sword, bringing it to bear, though he was unsure what effect it would have on Captain Hamilton.

Hamilton held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not here to fight, Will."

Will shook his head. "I don't believe you." He never took his eyes from Hamilton though he called to Jack. "Jack, are you all right."

"I'm fine, Will."

"Let him go." Will's words were not a request.

"I'm not holding him. He followed me here. Or perhaps I should say he followed us." Hamilton gestured behind him, and Will saw his father standing slightly behind Hamilton, his hat in his hands.

Will's confusion grew. "What's going on?"

Hamilton stepped forward, but Will's sword kept him at bay.

The Captain of the Queen stepped forward. "Single combat, Will Turner. You and I fight, and the winner gets to keep your father."

"Why would you do this? You won. You had him."

Hamilton nodded. "I did, but your father convinced me it wasn't sporting. Of course, when I told him my plan, he was mortified."

"Too right!" William Turner declared. "I'll not 'ave you fightin' ta free the likes o'me, Will! Leave me to it! Go on with yer life! Marry Elizabeth!"

Will turned to Jack, but Jack could only shrug.

Will nodded. "Very well." Then he remembered that Hamilton didn't have a weapon. "But, you're unarmed."

A grin spread easily across Hamilton's face as he drew a sword from a scabbard he'd concealed behind him strapped elaborately across his back and invisible if you were looking at him head on. Tossing the scabbard aside, he raised his sword.

Will did the same, and the two began the dance only warriors know.

Everything that was not Hamilton and his sword melted away from Will's reality. He saw each movement a split second before it happened, he anticipated each thrust and parry. Hamilton grew more and more vicious as he fought, and the façade of the English Gentleman that Will had grown so accustomed to melted away until Will realized that a pirate was a pirate. Dressed in finery or dressed in rags, a pirate captain wanted what he wanted and would do what he had to take it.

Hamilton's attacks became bloodier. He scored first blood by catching Will's arm with the point of his sword. Blood poured from the open wound.

Another hit on Will's shoulder drew more blood. Yet it was the swing at Will's neck that brought Will around. He was no longer fighting a gentleman, and, perhaps, there wasn't anything gentlemanly about fighting anyway. Perhaps the only reason to fight at all was not for honor but for your life orhe glanced at his father and Jackfor the lives of those you love. Avoiding the strike at his neck, Will put everything he had into disarming Hamilton. When that didn't work, he did as he had done on the Pearl with Nick. He stepped forward, and plunged his sword into Hamilton's heart.

The Captain fell to the floor at Will's feet. He lay there for some time and finally, looking up at Will, he whispered, "Now you know it wasn't a fluke, Will Turner. You can be counted upon to fight when necessary."

Will stared at the man even as he disappeared. Then he turned to Jack and his father. "I don't understand what happened."

William stepped forward. " "amilton and 'is men claimed they were charged with teaching you about life. Trilby wanted it for ye. He told me that 'amilton allowed each new crewman to pick someone they knew in life ta help. Trilby picked ye."

Will shook his head. "This makes no sense."

William laughed and Will and Jack had to join in.

"That I know, lad. From what I learned, they all think they do the will o'the 'eavens. They believe they sail around the world makin' others see" he shrugged. "Well, whatever they need ta see."

Will nodded and clapped his hand on his father's shoulder. "So long as I get back my second chance to know you."

William smiled. "Aye! That's enough for me, too, lad."

Jack was back aboard the _Black_ _Pearl_ wondering how he could ever approach another ship in his lifetime and not wonder if the men sailing her weren't dead. He'd left William and Will together, and it had been a sight he'd never thought he'd see. William was happier than he'd ever seen his lifelong friend, and Will actually seemed content for the first time since Jack had met him. It had been a long strange trip, and Jack was glad once again to see the last of Port Royal, though he had a suspicion he would be back one day.

He watched the ghostly image of the _Queen of Diamonds_ sail into the distance becoming more and more insubstantial as it went. Was it blessed or cursed? He didn't think he could truly say. He did think they'd done right by Will. He knew the man had worried about his pirate blood and about whether or not he could or couldn't take another man's life and live with it. He'd heard Will mention to Trilby just before the Queen had disappeared the first time–taking William with it–that he couldn't help but think that, though he'd killed Nick, he would never be able to do it again.

The crew of _the Queen_ had obviously decided to set the stage and prove to the lad that he was neither a monster nor undependable. Will Turner was none of those things. He was a pirate and a good manand a blacksmith.

It was only when Anamaria spoke that Jack realized she was standing by his side. "There's more to that than meets the eye."

"It would be a poor pirate ship otherwise."

"That's no pirate ship."

"It's a cursed ship. It's doomed"

"They seemed cheerful for doomed pirates."

Jack nodded. "Oh, aye, that's true enough. They think they're blessed. They think they're doing the will of heaven."

"Who's to say they're not?"

"Who indeed." Jack smiled.

__

The sea was warm and still with sunlight dancing across the water and glistening like polished saphires. Seabirds too numerous to count called to each other and to all within hearing their cries almost like laughter.

One man walked the sun-drenched sands soaking in the surroundings like a balm on a tired soul. One man lifted his eyes to the bright promise of a new day, a new life.

Then, miraculously, he felt a shift, a change in his being. He inhaled and the sweet scent of his love filled his lungs. He turned to see her approaching, her hand raised in greeting as she led their son and cradled their daughter in her arms.

__

The sight of her beauty made him struggle for breath and he smiled as she smiled at him. He saw his children reach for him, even though too far away to take their father's hand they continued reaching

Will awoke at dawn as the sun peered through a crack in the shutters at the Inn. He'd taken a room there the night before. Tonight he would begin to set himself up as Port Royal's Blacksmith, for Elizabeth had been right. There was no other and the town was in dire need.

He climbed from his bed, stretching and opened the shutter. Looking out at the stretch of white sand and the deep blue water, Will recalled the dream he'd just had and smiled.

The End


End file.
